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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343021">Lonely Heirs and Dusty Affairs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimeeHimitsu/pseuds/AimeeHimitsu'>AimeeHimitsu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mystic Messenger (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Employer/Employee, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Maid Reader AU, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimeeHimitsu/pseuds/AimeeHimitsu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jumin Han finally meets his mysterious maid by accident, who turns out to be a part-time working college student he actually has more in common with than he thought possible.</p><p>This is friends to lovers fan fiction tells the fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and later on smutty story of how Jumin falls in love with his maid (seems like Yoosung was right about telling him to talk to his maid now and then)</p><p>The upload schedule for this fic is tentatively set for one chapter a week, every Wednesday.</p><p>P.S: there's a pretty obvious MLQC easter egg in here. Who can find it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jumin &amp; Main Character, Han Jumin &amp; Reader, Han Jumin/Main Character, Han Jumin/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vicky+%28fandomix_+on+IG%29">Vicky (fandomix_ on IG)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is inspired by Vicky's (fandomix_ on Instagram) birthday wish, and is my birthday present to her.</p><p>Happy Birthday, Vicky!!! I hope you like this, and that it turns out to be at least a little like you imagined and wished for it to be! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You really didn’t know what possessed you to break your usual routine and do what you did that day.<br/>
Maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself get distracted during the last of your daily work tasks, dusting the penthouse’s lower level.<br/>
You also shouldn’t have let that damned grand piano dominating the sprawling living room seduce you into finally laying your hands on it, <i>without</i> holding a rag to clean it with.<br/>
Ever since your agency had assigned you this place, you had wished you could try it out at least once, hear its sound as it came alive under your hands. You knew it would happen sooner or later, the temptation was just too big. You hadn’t touched a real piano in months.<br/>
You were supposed to be working, finishing up the living room and collecting the pile of clothes wrapped in protective black covers to take them to the dry cleaner’s. Like every day, you were meant to be professional, to do your part-time job of cleaning for two hours and leaving the fancy top-floor apartment in a spotless and pristine condition.<br/>
For some reason, things were different today.<br/>
Today, you’d finally succumbed to the burning need inside you.<br/>
It wasn’t the right thing to do. It was against the rules to make use of any home appliances during the resident’s absence, aside from basic facilities like the bathroom and kitchen.<br/>
Yes, you definitely shouldn’t have gotten carried away playing your heart out on your client’s personal and very expensive musical instrument.<br/>
But most of all, you probably shouldn’t have gone to work in your current mood in the first place, feeling upset and humiliated from being broken up with in the nastiest way humanly possible: the group chat of one of your college classes that both you and your now-ex had been part of.<br/>
Yet here you were in your client’s home, seated on the plush stool in front of the most <i>magnificent</i>  piano you had ever seen, the cleaning utensil abandoned on the instrument’s closed lid. You poured all of yourself into the music as you played your favorite pieces, angry and worked up over the spiteful method your boyfriend of three months had chosen to dump you, and the week right before midterms too.<br/>
It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the sudden breakup. You hadn’t agreed to date Shin out of love or silly infatuation.<br/>
Back when he’d first approached you, your last relationship had been a matter of ancient history. Well into your second year of college, you hadn’t known what to do with your time outside of working and studying. Miserable from being deprived of the one thing you truly enjoyed doing, you’d find no pleasure in the activities other people filled their hours with.<br/>
The lack of music in your life had made your days melt into a bleak and sluggish sequence of daytime and nights, an ever repeating pattern as monotonous as being stuck playing the same rigid tune on repeat a hundred times.<br/>
And...you’d been lonely. You had a bunch of friends in college, but you weren’t close enough with any of them to let down your guard and be vulnerable about your troubles.<br/>
So, when the charming boy you had more than half of your schedule in common with expressed his interest in getting to know you, you hadn’t dismissed him. It was nice to be on the receiving end every now and again when it came to male attention.<br/>
If only you hadn’t given that particular guy a chance...<br/>
Fueled by your anger, your fingers skipped over the keys, the sounds of Chopin’s <i>Nocturne</i> swelling along with your temper as your thoughts drifted back to this morning’s incident.<br/>
Shin hadn’t been satisfied spending time together in and out of classes and going on dates. Pretty soon into your new relationship, too soon for comfort, he had conveyed his eagerness to be intimate with you and not taken well to your reluctance of letting him into your pants at that stage. He’d grumbled and moaned about it but eventually accepted the reasoning that you weren’t ready yet...only to start badgering you about it again a month later.<br/>
You’d liked being with him. He was cute and funny and smart, and the fact that you could study for exams together was an additional bonus. But when he’d gone back to trying to guilt you into sleeping with him with no consideration for your feelings, you’d decided to pay attention to the way he acted with you when alone and around others...and started chafing at the way he only seemed to care about sex. When alone together, you were the sole focus of his attentions and flattery, all words and actions meant to groom you towards giving yourself up to him. But as soon as others were present, he paid you no mind to the point that you felt invisible until someone other than him interacted with you. It didn’t help that he’d become an integral part of your friends group by then.<br/>
Two months into a relationship weren’t long if neither person had feelings for the other yet. Was it that wrong of you to want to wait with the intimacy until there was some sort of emotional involvement?<br/>
Apparently it was. And in the middle of morning classes, Shin had let everyone in your group chat know. That he was done with you and your uptight ways. In the pettiest way possible, he had painted you a tease who would naively lead him on only to deny him when it got serious. And to top it off, he’d claimed you’d only become his girlfriend to take advantage of the fact his older brother was your business professor. Now all of them believed you were an opportunistic prude, probably a virgin, that had nothing else to do except working and studying and leaving your boyfriends blue-balled for eternity while you used them for your own selfish gains.<br/>
Judging from their responses, they believed him, too. You weren’t sure how extensive the damage was, but for now, you had no idea if you could trust any of your friends or if they’d been turned against you by that bastard.<br/>
Exactly why did guys think they deserved to get laid for whispering a few pretty things in your ear?<br/>
The tempo and volume of the classical piece you were playing gradually increased as it neared its climax, the unrestrained passion of that part right before the end matching your agitated frame of mind. It was one of your favorites to play when upset...<br/>
You bounced about two feet off the stool when the electric lock on the front door chimed behind you, startling you so bad that your music died off in a burst of off-key tones.<br/>
In your blind haste to cover the keyboard back up and get away from the piano as the door swung open behind you, you jammed your fingers under the fallboard. Stifling the ensuing cry of pain, you made yourself reach for the feather duster laying on top of the piano and swiped the jacket of your work uniform off the nearby sofa, together with the pile of clothes meant for dry cleaning.<br/>
You didn’t dare look up at the resident as you gave a hurried bow and rushed past him, barely catching a glimpse of wide gray eyes and dark hair on your way out the door.<br/>
<i>Crap.</i> You hadn’t just broken the rules, you’d been caught in the act too. Your job was toast as soon as your agency got word of your misconduct…<br/>
Cursing this day that had started bad and turned even worse, you dropped off the bundle of clothes at the client’s signature dry cleaner’s and went home, the duster still clutched tightly in your battered, throbbing hand.</p><p>
For the rest of the night, you were wound so tight, the slightest noise startled you. Unable to relax or focus your scattered thoughts, you locked yourself in your room, waving your dad off when he dropped by to announce dinner was ready. The worry and anxiety churning in your gut had you feeling physically sick just thinking of food. Whenever your phone rang with the sound of an incoming message, you had to work up enough courage to check it, expecting to get fired any minute, or be notified that your salary would be cut for the transgression.<br/>
It was so bad that even your rescue kitty, a black and white tuxedo cat called Vic, picked up on your mood and became all twitchy and energized, not helping your own distraught condition.<br/>
Desperate for relief from your frantic thoughts, you tried to remember everything you knew about the penthouse’s owner, to gauge your chances of getting away unscathed. Before today, you had never encountered him in person. Judging by his wardrobe that seemed to consist of mostly formal and business casual pieces, and the fact that the apartment was never messy or disorganized in any way, you had taken him for some wealthy older gentleman or middle-aged business operative. The entire space felt so impersonal, almost sterile in its lack of family pictures and personal mementos that you’d assumed it was only used as temporary lodgings for when the owner was in town for business, if it weren’t for the pet cat that was there sometimes, and other times not. You didn’t think people took their pets with them on business trips...or did they?<br/>
As if he’d sensed your thoughts going in that direction, Vic - short for Victor - cocked his head to the side with a puzzled expression, as if to say: <i>Wait, wouldn’t you bring me along on a trip?</i><br/>
Victor usually had this dapper air to him, with his black coat and white chest and face markings giving the impression that he wore a crisp suit. But posing this way, his head tilted and blue-gray eyes narrowed, he appeared almost stern - if it wasn’t for the band of black fur at the front of his neck that made him look like he wore a perpetually crooked bow tie. That totally ruined his image.<br/>
You couldn’t suppress the smile his goofy mannerisms always managed to put on your face. It wasn’t for no reason that you’d started calling him your silly little CEO soon after taking him in.<br/>
When the Vic trotted away to do cat-things, your momentarily distracted mind wandered back to the topic at hand.<br/>
All those musings about the client’s identity seemed to have been far from reality. The brief glimpse you’d caught of him during your rushed escape had proven that he wasn’t very old. In fact, he didn’t appear more than a couple of years older than you. Was he a college student, too, then?<br/>
No, that didn’t explain the luxurious apartment, or the obscenely expensive grand piano you’d sullied with your commoner’s hands.<br/>
Rolling your eyes at your dramatic thoughts, you shooed Victor away when he tried to nibble on your fingers for lack of attention.<br/>
You vaguely recalled seeing forms and folders with a company stamp whenever you cleaned the study, something with a C and an R on the logo. He seemed to be a businessman after all. But the level of extravagance he lived at ate away at you.<br/>
Was he perhaps...a young heir?<br/>
You scoffed. Your luck had to be rotten if you’d actually managed to piss off some spoiled, rich brat by touching his invaluable toys.<br/>
But, would it be any less of a disaster if he was just some rich businessman?<br/>
What you knew about the wealthy was that they tended to look down on people less better off. What if he would get you fired just on principle?<br/>
You threw your phone on your bed with an exasperated groan.<br/>
This went on until, several hours later, when nothing but a few invitation pop-ups for a pre exam weekend party circulating in the group chats had you frantically picking up and tossing your phone back on the bed like a lunatic countless times, you decided you wouldn't continue like this. You turned your phone off and buried your head in your books to review for the exams instead of stressing over the day’s consequences. You’d either be fired or not, you couldn’t turn back time or undo your breaking of the rules.<br/>
It was beyond you how the others were planning to spend the weekend partying instead of preparing for the exams, but you definitely wouldn’t be doing the same. Thank god it was Wednesday. You had no more classes before the midterms and you’d already taken leave from work a while ago, to spend the rest of this week cramming. You were supposed to have a study date with Shin on Friday, but there was no way that was happening now.<br/>
<i>Sigh.</i><br/>
Seems like you’d have to weather through this mess one way or another.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You made it through the weekend without losing your mind, and midterms turned out to be a walk in the park - that was, if the park was entirely covered in a layer of burning embers and your walk was actually you being chased barefoot by a pack of hellhounds that wanted your lunch. <i>Woof woof.</i><br/>
As expected, just setting foot on campus grounds had felt like dipping your toes in piranha-infested waters. You’d been avoided by everyone like you had some deadly contagious disease, even those you’d previously considered your friends. But the subject of all the whispered conversations that picked up every time you entered a classroom or lecture hall - You.<br/>
By the end of the week, although you’d survived the exams themselves, you were exhausted from bearing the weight of all the stares and hearing snippets of the lies and juicy gossip about you that seemed to get ever more ridiculous the longer they circulated. You had doggedly ignored it and endured everything that happened, although you’d come awfully close to throwing punches when a guy a year above you had sauntered up to you during lunch break and loudly announced he would graciously suffer your “curse of the blue balls”, if you became his girlfriend and let him tutor you - under the condition that you showed up in nothing but your underwear and allowed him to have a feel every now and then. You had politely declined and pointed him to your ex with a sickly sweet smile, saying he’d have better chances asking Shin since <i>he</i> was one to force second base and beyond when it was not appropriate.<br/>
After that little scene, things became considerably more quiet. People still talked, but now everyone was being careful not to let you overhear them, in case you felt like taking action again. Fortunately, no one else tried to approach you or ambush you in public and you were able to finish your exams in peace.<br/>
Strangely, nothing came from work all week, no call or message to let you know you were being let go. Instead, your colleague, who you knew had taken over your shifts for the rest of the week and also covered for you during exams, texted you that the client had called in to ask about you when someone else had shown up to do your job the day after the piano incident.<br/>
This had your anxiety come back with double the intensity it had been before. By the time you were supposed to go in again the next afternoon, you were a bundle of nerves.<br/>
Tense enough that you had to start over twice while punching in the penthouse’s access code, you almost dropped the dry cleaned clothes you’d picked up on your way there when the elevator dinged behind you, only for the car to arrive empty after it had almost given you a damn heart attack.<br/>
Although you felt ridiculous doing it, like some burglar confirming the absence of residents before breaking into a house, you poked your head inside to check if anyone was home first. You couldn’t help but be paranoid. Why else would the apartment’s owner call to ask about you if not to know when you’d show up again so he could give you hell in person?<br/>
No one seemed to be there, though, and you trudged inside to do your job once more. Maybe showing up earlier than usual had been a good idea after all...<br/>
You went into the kitchen first to put down the container of homemade cookies you’d brought.You always baked too much of the sweet stuff, so you thought you’d bring some along for your client. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were feeling guilty and hoping to bribe yourself out of the scolding possibly awaiting you...<br/>
Today, the cat was there. The fluffy, white, long-haired beauty with the cutest pink nose and stunning blue eyes lurked near you and intently watched you clean as if she’d been personally tasked with supervising you.<br/>
It was kind of cute to think of it that way. Would she chastise you too, if you did something wrong? You snickered inwardly, dismissing the mischievous thoughts urging you to test your theory. Instead, you approached the kitty and held out your hand to let her sniff you.<br/>
To your surprise, she hissed and swatted at you after a few seconds, then turned up her nose and strutted away as if she didn’t deign to be in your presence anymore.<br/>
She must have smelled Victor on you. It was the same reaction he gave you whenever you came back from feeding the strays in your neighborhood, like you’d been unfaithful, or betrayed him by consorting with other cats.<br/>
Clicking your tongue at the cat’s huffy attitude, you went back to work.<br/>
By the time you were done with most of the apartment and only had one room left to clean, you’d forgotten all about your earlier paranoia and your status as a wanted criminal.<br/>
Whistling your favorite tune and wishing you could play it on a piano instead, you flung open the door to the study to finish the job-…<br/>
...only to find yourself face to face with the man who had occupied your mind all week, the one person you had <i>not</i> wanted to run into.<br/>
You froze, hand going bloodless on the doorknob from how hard you gripped it in your moment of horrified shock. For one terrible second that didn’t seem to end, nothing happened, and you started thinking that maybe, <i>maybe</i> he hadn’t noticed you.<br/>
He was wearing a wireless earpiece, and the door wasn’t in his direct line of sight from the desk. Maybe you could still get away…<br/>
Slowly, very slowly, so you wouldn’t draw his attention to yourself, you inched the door closed, your eyes glued to his form to know if you alerted him in the slightest. You started thinking you’d gotten away, up until he unhurriedly raised his head from the documents in front of him and you found yourself pinned down under the undiluted force of his gaze on you.<br/>
“Oh, <i>there</i> you are.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Please, come in and have a seat.”<br/>
You suddenly became aware of the fact that you’d been mutely staring at him in wide-eyed terror for the past minute, half-hidden behind the door you were holding in front of yourself like a piece of armor.<br/>
With an impatient shake of his head, he took off the earpiece and closed the file he’d been reading. “I have a video conference in twenty minutes, so I’ll have to make this quick. Take a seat, please.”<br/>
Jolted into action by the sound of the folder snapping shut, you robotically approached the desk and lowered yourself onto the worn leather armchair opposite it. You didn’t dare look at him as you sat there, nervously fiddling about with the rag in your hand, awaiting a heated lecture on work ethics and workplace propriety, and <i>How to not piss off your clients...</i><br/>
But instead of addressing you, he swept the documents on his desk into a neat pile, then went about organizing his pens in a row next to his computer’s keyboard, each one placed with meticulous care.<br/>
You furtively examined him while he was busy putting the items on his desktop in order.<br/>
His gray eyes were downcast, single-mindedly focused on what his hands were doing. Set in a pale face with chiseled features that placed him on the pretty side of handsome, they were the most expressive part of his face, despite the guarded expression you’d seen in them back when he caught you at the door.<br/>
A sweep of black hair cascaded over his forehead and down his temple on one side, the dark strands cut in an expensive, layered style just long enough that they brushed the top of his starched collar at the back. He wore a pinstriped white dress shirt, but his sleeves were folded up to the middle of his pale, toned forearms, and a dark blue tie sat loosely under his unbuttoned collar.<br/>
Somehow, he looked less imposing than how you’d painted him in your mind...<br/>
Done with the rearrangement of his desk, he went ahead with unrolling his sleeves next, carefully straightening out the fabric to keep it from getting wrinkled.<br/>
It was strangely mesmerizing to watch him do that. He’d looked relaxed and casual before, but in a matter of minutes, he seemed to wrap himself in an impenetrable aura of aloofness and professional unapproachability. It was like, just by fixing his clothes, he became an entirely different person.<br/>
How the hell did he do that?<br/>
“Who taught you how to play like that?”<br/>
The question, when it came, was so soft, you barely caught it in your distracted state.<br/>
“Huh?” Oh, how eloquent you were today.<br/>
“The piano. Who taught you that?” His hands went to his throat next, where he threaded in the buttons all the way to the top, then tightened the fabric of the tie to slide it back into place, snug under his collar.<br/>
For some reason, watching him adjust the tie felt weirdly intimate.<br/>
“Hm?” He turned his head at that moment, catching your eyes on him. When he raised a questioning eyebrow, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassed heat.<br/>
“Uhm, my dad. He’s a piano teacher.”<br/>
He nodded as he tugged open a drawer almost absently, his eyes holding a neutral curiosity when he looked at you. “He must be an outstanding teacher. You play very well. Better than I do, in fact.”<br/>
Caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, you forgot you were supposed to play ostrich and openly stared at him, dumbfounded. How could you be better than him when he had that beautiful instrument to practice on everyday?<br/>
His lips curved tentatively at the corners when he saw your expression. “It’s true. I lack the expressiveness and emotion that seems to come naturally to you. Would you like to have it?”<br/>
You blinked, no longer able to follow what he was saying. “Have...what?”<br/>
“The grand piano. It’s wasted on me. What use does an instrument have when a person like a robot is the only one playing it?”<br/>
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”<br/>
<i>What!?</i><br/>
Was this some kind of sick joke he was playing on you? Was he resorting to psychological torture to make you pay for your crime? There was no way he was offering you the expensive grand piano in his living room. For free. Out of nowhere. <i>No</i> way.<br/>
“Look, mister...uh...Sir.” You squirmed in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. You should have checked properly before entering the apartment. Hell, you shouldn’t have come here <i>in the first place</i> after hearing him ask about you. Why else would he do that, except to mete out punishment by himself?<br/>
At your awkward rambling, his hand paused in mid-air above the desk, the gleam of metal twinkling at you from between his fingers. He was holding a pair of gold cufflinks he seemed to have taken out of the drawer.<br/>
“Sir, I’m sorry I touched your piano without permission. I've overstepped my bounds. It won’t happen again. If you want me to, I will have my agency assign you a different worker.”<br/>
Anxious to the point you had trouble filling your lungs with air, you didn’t dare look at him. But even with your gaze firmly fixed on the on the desk he now placed the cufflinks on, you caught how he cocked his head in the periphery of your vision.<br/>
“Why would I want that? Do you lack competence in carrying out your work?”<br/>
“W-what? No! I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, Sir!” How the hell had he jumped to that conclusion? Again, you forgot all about your avoidance tactics, snapping your head up in puzzled surprise at his unforeseen question.<br/>
With the way he had his head tilted to the side and a confused frown on his face, he suddenly looked a lot like Vic to you. A wave of hysterical laughter rose inside you at the absurd image, but you forced yourself to suppress the conflicting emotions so he wouldn’t think you a complete nutjob.<br/>
“Then there’s no reason to request someone else. As long as you’re capable, you can keep working here. Also, please don’t call me ‘Sir’. People address my father that way. It makes me feel old.”<br/>
Beyond perplexed at the turn this conversation had taken, you could do nothing but nod your acknowledgement of his words.<br/>
“Excellent. Now tell me, what is your name?” With the ghost of a smile, he aligned his shirt sleeves and swiped the cufflinks off his desk to fit them in place as he spoke.<br/>
You swallowed, your throat going dry at his words. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Si-. I-I mean, nice to meet you.” Was he asking for your name in order to lodge a formal complaint? In any way, you wouldn’t drop your guard and risk messing up any more unless you knew for sure that he wasn’t out to get you. From now on, you'd be on your best behavior.<br/>
“Likewise, Y/N. A friend once told me I should try conversing with my maid on occasion. I used to think that the difference in social status made such interactions a waste of time, but I now realize that it doesn’t seem to be a bad idea at all. It appears that my perception of hired subordinates as naturally inferior was misguided.”<br/>
This guy was so blunt, it bordered on rude, yet for some reason, you didn’t sense any ill will behind his words. Could it be he was just so awkward at talking to people that he didn’t realize how crude it came across to say things that way?<br/>
Still, his words bothered you. You couldn’t stay silent, despite the ambiguous nature of your situation and the promise you had just made yourself. “I’d like to let you know that, while it <i>is</i> uncalled for to consider interacting with your employees a waste of time, I just work as a maid part-time, and not professionally. I’m actually a college student, business major, but I work for <i>Clean &amp; Catered</i> to make a living. College is expensive, you know?”<br/>
He stilled upon hearing your feeble rant, his eyes lighting up with sudden interest. “So we are in the same industry?”<br/>
“I...I guess so?” This guy was going to cause you heart problems from anxiety. You’d come into his office thinking he was going to give you a hard time, but <i>you</i> had ended up lecturing <i>him</i> about workplace propriety instead, and now you were chatting about your shared profession?<br/>
What the hell was going on here?<br/>
“Si-...” You caught yourself slipping up and started over in a different way, desperate for some clarity. “Uh, please wait a moment. You did not call me in here because you were mad about me using your piano in your absence?”<br/>
Done with his cuffs, he reached for the vest draped over the back of his chair. “Mad? No, why would I be? As a matter of fact, I meant to ask if you’d be inclined to share your talent with me? I am rather intrigued by the prospect of learning how to play like you do.”<br/>
That left you speechless. He...wanted you to teach him? But, why-...how? How the hell did you teach someone <i>emotions</i>?<br/>
As if taking your sudden silence as dissatisfaction with his offer, he cleared his throat and hurried to add “You will, of course, be properly compensated.”<br/>
You vehemently shook your head at that, making your hair fly everywhere. “I don’t want your money. I already work for you, I don’t care to be in your employ for yet another thing! Besides, I’ve never thought about the way that I play. I don’t even know if that can be taught!”<br/>
“I’m not sure I understand what the problem is.” He had that damn Vic-expression again. How could a grown man manage to look so <i>innocent</i> in his confusion? It was almost comical. You couldn’t take him seriously like that.<br/>
And to think you’d thought him a diabolical monster all week...<br/>
Overwhelmed, you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, <i>if</i> I do end up deciding to teach you, then I won’t accept any payment for it.”<br/>
His eyebrows rose at that. "If you don't want to do it as my employee, then how do you intend to teach me?"<br/>
Was that the only part of your speech that reached his brain?<br/>
More than taken off-guard, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I suppose I could consider it, if we went into this as, as…friends?"<br/>
His face shifted to betray his scepticism as he buttoned up the vest he’d slipped on. "Friends? I was under the impression that it is inappropriate for friends to profit off of each other. Or is that inaccurate as well?"<br/>
You almost laughed out loud. "It's called doing someone a favor. You can help your friends without expecting anything in return. That's how friendships work." That’s it, now you were fully convinced this guy wasn’t messing with you. He just seemed to be incredibly inexperienced and clumsy when it came to interpersonal relationships. If he couldn’t even read the emotional mood inside a room properly, how did he expect you to teach him to imbue his piano skills with feelings?<br/>
He took a moment to contemplate your words. “Very well. I usually refrain from mixing professional and personal matters, but I suppose it is alright in this case, as long as our “friendship activities” take place outside the hours of your part-time work.” He held out his hand to you, as if you had just finalized a business deal together and had but to shake on it to make it official.<br/>
How did things end up like this?<br/>
Finding yourself backed against the wall, you had no choice but to sigh and accept his outstretched hand. At least you’d finally get access to a real piano like that. And you didn’t get fired, or punished. Didn’t things turn out better than expected?<br/>
But still...why did it feel like you had just bartered away your soul? You really hoped you wouldn’t come to regret this…<br/>
His fingers felt warm and strong around yours. Holding your eyes with his gray ones, he smiled at you, and this time, it seemed a little more genuine than before. “I would like to return the favor by offering to help you with your studies, if the need arises. I trust you will find me proficient in business-related matters.”<br/>
Another heavy exhale filled with defeat. “I guess I can work with that.”<br/>
Letting go after a brief, firm handshake, he glanced up when something dinged on his computer screen. “I apologize, but the video conference is about to start. Allow me to walk you out.”<br/>
He stood and tugged his vest in place, then went ahead to open the office door for you. He waited by the entrance while you put away the rag and collected your jacket, his hand on the door handle.<br/>
You thought about telling him you still hadn’t cleaned the study, but considering he was still doing work in there, you’d just have to take care of that the next day.<br/>
Suddenly nervous, you twisted your jacket in your hands. “So...do you want me to come back later today? You know...for the lessons.”<br/>
A subtle sigh whispered past his lips as he pulled the door open. “As soon as I’d like to start, I unfortunately have a full schedule for the rest of the day. I will be expecting you tomorrow afternoon instead?”<br/>
Nodding, you pulled on your uniform jacket. “That’s alright.”<br/>
“If there’s nothing else, please take care on your way home.”<br/>
Halfway out the door already, you suddenly whirled back around when you recalled something. “Errm, wait! What..what’s your name?”<br/>
He chuckled softly as he crouched down to scoop up the Persian cat streaking around his ankles. “I’ve neglected to introduce myself, please excuse my discourtesy.” Holding up the white-haired feline next to his face, he gracefully inclined his head in an implied bow, lips curving into a pleasant smile. “My name is Jumin Han, Executive Director of C&amp;R International. And this is my beautiful princess, Elizabeth The 3rd. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N. I look forward to the development of this friendship.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm terribly sorry if this chapter reads like a tease because there's no Juju screen time... &gt;_&lt; I'm trying to set the scene here, but I promise the backstory stuff is almost done and there's lots of Jumin time coming up in the next chapters!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entire way home after that strange encounter, you were in a daze, as if everything had been a surreal dream induced by excessive sugar and caffeine mixed with lack of sleep. It felt like the aftermath of your mad study spree for midterms hadn’t already ended the week before.<br/>
Somehow, both your job and your mental health had been spared. Not only that, but you’d gained an opportunity to play the piano regularly, at least for the foreseeable future.<br/>
And...a new friend, apparently.<br/>
But you didn’t know what to make of him yet. Hopefully you’d be able to get a better impression of him during your “lessons”.<br/>
After that rollercoaster ride of a work day, you were in a better mood than you’d been the entire past week, but in dire need of a nap. Luckily, you had a week of no classes ahead of you to recuperate from the stress of midterms.<br/>
Since you hadn’t eaten anything yet - you couldn’t stomach anything that morning from how anxious you’d been at the thought of going into work - you first swung by your favorite bakery and picked up a bagel and a box of powdered doughnuts, one of your guilty pleasures when it came to food. Patience wasn’t your strong suit, so by the time you made it back to your place, your lips were dusted white and the box missing several pastries.<br/>
To your immense surprise, your dad wasn’t home.<br/>
You <i>had</i> gone to work earlier than usual today, but he normally didn’t leave for his music lessons until the early evening. The only teaching he did prior to that occured in his own office, at home, which is why you tended to spend the mornings outside somewhere as to not be a bother.<br/>
For the two of you, this had been a fixed routine ever since your mother had left to start a family with another man. Throughout the past eight years, it was you and your dad, learning how to live with and take care of each other while simultaneously trying not to cross any boundaries or step on each other’s toes.<br/>
Which didn’t mean that your life together was always harmonious. Far from that, actually. Because, even though he was your pillar and the person dearest to you in the world, he was also your greatest enemy.<br/>
He’d been the one to teach you to play the piano, sharing his great love with you since your earliest childhood, until all you breathed, all you thought about was music. He’d been the one to inspire your pieces when you started composing your own, and to shape your wishes and dreams for the future.<br/>
And...he’d been the one to crush them.<br/>
His experiences as an aspiring professional pianist had turned him bitter after the failure of his hopeful career, and when he found his talents reduced to giving private lessons to anyone who had enough to pay his fee just to make ends meet, he’d vowed to keep you from making the same mistakes that led him to his ruin.<br/>
To him, that meant radically preventing you from indulging in your love for music by barring you from using his instruments and shutting down your piano classes and practice.<br/>
At first, you’d find ways to circumvent him, sneaking into your school’s music hall to use the piano during lunch break or after school. Infiltrating his office while he was gone to play on the old-fashioned upright piano he gave his at-home lessons on. You had even volunteered to help out at a music shop in your neighborhood as a last resort, in exchange for being allowed to practice on their pianos. Until your dad had caught you and threatened to report the owner for exploiting minors in his business, if he continued letting you practice there.<br/>
After that day, and after finding out you secretly used his piano whenever he wasn't home, he would always lock the office door to keep you out and otherwise try his damnedest to cut you off from the world of music...<br/>
As you sat down for a very late breakfast with your bagel and a cup of tea, you found a note your dad had left on the kitchen table, informing you that he probably wouldn’t be back until the evening. An idea began to form in your head.<br/>
You’d been forced to give up your habit of sneaking into your dad’s office when he had changed the door lock to one that was harder to pick. The previous one, a flimsy, old model without a removable key, was easily opened using just a coin or butter knife, and could be locked from the outside the same way again. So upon finding out you’d been taking advantage of that, he’d gone all out and replaced it with a sturdy keyhole lock that wasn’t just difficult to pick, but also nearly impossible to re-lock. The one time you <i>had</i> managed to break into the office but failed to lock it again afterwards, you’d had to make him believe he’d forgotten it open to save yourself from being found out.<br/>
After that day, you had abandoned your risky endeavor of trying to gain access to the office, acting like you’d given up on your dreams ever since.<br/>
But today, for some reason, it seemed like the heavens were smiling down on you. You were inclined to try your luck because you felt like you might just get away with it.<br/>
“Don’t you think we’re blessed today, Mr. CEO?” You grinned at Victor when he sheepishly blinked at you from where he’d been trying to stick his head into the doughnut box on the other side of the table.<br/>
At the sound of your voice, he cocked his head in his usual adorably dorky way, which looked even more hilarious with the mess he had made of himself. Powdered sugar dusted the dark fur of his forehead and clung to his whiskers and nose, causing him to erupt into a sudden sneezing fit that seemed to go on without end. When the attack finally stopped, he just stood there, frozen in shock at what had happened, the most adorable look of alarmed confusion on his little face.<br/>
You laughed and reached over to brush the rest of the white substance off him. “I think that was a yes. I’m glad you share my enthusiasm.”<br/>
So you cleaned up after yourself and made your way to the office, nervous anticipation thrumming a ceaseless beat in your blood. You were supposed to start those “lessons” with Jumin tomorrow, but you hadn’t been lying when you told him you didn’t know how to, or even <i>if</i> you could teach him to play like you. When you played, you played without thinking. Your fingers followed the call of the music and moved on their own to sustain the melody, the notes dancing in the air around you like static.<br/>
...which was a problem. Because, how could you teach someone something when you didn’t even know how you did it yourself?<br/>
So, today was your last chance to find that out in order to become an adequate instructor and be able to teach Jumin effectively.<br/>
It took several minutes of awkwardly twisting and jostling two metal hairpins inside the keyhole for the lock to click open, but when it finally did, you beamed at Vic who had tagged after you from the kitchen. “See, luck’s on our side today.”<br/>
You just hoped that this time, it stuck around until after you were done being a petty criminal.</p><p>~~~</p><p>By the time your dad returned, the office door was firmly locked once again and you were back in your room, pretending to read a book while actually revising a composition you had been working on for the past months. The piece itself wasn’t very long, but you were having a hard time capturing the right emotions within the interplay of chords and note progressions that made up the melody. It would be much easier to figure it out if you could actually <i>play</i> it somewhere, to hear how it sounded when it came to life as music, so you were planning to take it with you when you went to Jumin’s place tomorrow. Maybe he would let you have a few minutes with his piano to find a way out of this musical dead end you’d maneuvered yourself into.<br/>
It was terribly impractical to write music blindly like that, but for the past years, you’d had no other choice. You’d rather do it blindly than not at all.<br/>
A muted knock sounded. “Y/N, are you up?”<br/>
You scrambled to hide your music book at the sudden noise outside your bedroom door.<br/>
It was only early evening, but it had become a common occurrence for you to take naps in the afternoon when you went in for morning shifts. Thank god it reminded your dad to actually knock.<br/>
Having properly concealed the evidence of your shady activities, you flipped your cover book open on a random page to make it seem like you’d been reading in it. “Come in!”<br/>
Your dad stepped inside and perched on the edge of your bed with a tired smile. “How was your day? Judging by the doughnuts in the kitchen, something good must’ve happened. What’s the occasion? Did you get a raise?”<br/>
You rolled your eyes at him and marked the page off with a sticky note.<br/>
Whenever he actually seated himself after entering your room, you knew he wasn’t just dropping by for a quick chat. So, this could take a while.<br/>
“No, I…” You hesitated. What would you tell him about your new change of routine? You’d forgotten to prepare an excuse. For now, you’d just stall and try to come up with something later. “You know, just enjoying the days off. College is hard work...”<br/>
<i>Crap.</i> Why had you said that, when your studies were one of the things you always fought about?<br/>
“You can do it, sweetheart. You know you can do anything once you set your mind on it.”<br/>
But...wasn’t it his mind that was set on having you study business? Or, anything <i>but</i> music, for that matter?<br/>
With two mere sentences, you could feel your good mood dissolving like a sand castle being worn down by wave after wave washing over it. But for once, you didn’t say anything. You were so tired of having the same argument over and over…<br/>
As if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, your dad awkwardly cleared his throat. “Anyways, I have something to talk to you about.”<br/>
There it was, the big reason behind his strange behavior. You were dying to know why he was being so weird. Usually, two things could make him act that way, either the taboo topic of music that you couldn’t even mention in front of him without him exploding, or your-...<br/>
“Your mother called.”<br/>
Hearing the word alone made you cross your arms over your chest, your defenses subconsciously rising over one of the few things in your life that had the power to hurt you.<br/>
Forget that. One of <i>two</i> things that had torn a gash across your heart, a dripping wound that hadn’t even <i>begun</i> to heal after eight years of festering.<br/>
You could feel the familiar resentment accumulating inside you like a dense cloud of toxic gas poisoning your mind and weighing down your soul, slowly choking out the day’s previous euphoria.<br/>
How <i>dare</i> she show her face after what she had done, and how dare your dad bring her up like she hadn’t trampled all over the love and adoration the two of you had once felt for her?<br/>
Forcing indifference into the words, you met his gaze head-on, letting him see how unwelcome that particular topic was. “What did she want?”<br/>
All at once, your insides felt frozen, a thick layer of ice glazing over the chaos in your mind.<br/>
Did it even matter? It didn’t at all. Whatever it was, she could go bother someone other than you with it.<br/>
You had no intention of ever seeing her face again.<br/>
Although he must have anticipated that you’d be upset, your dad grew visibly tense, one hand unconsciously rubbing over his short beard in a nervous habit he displayed when stressed or uncomfortable. “Calm down, sweetie. She just wanted to, uh...talk to you about something…”<br/>
“No, thank you.”<br/>
You were actually surprised he hadn’t called you outside and seriously sat you down for a talk of this topic. Had he thought your reaction would be more mellow if he casually brought it up like it wasn’t one of two time bombs ticking under this roof?<br/>
“Just hear her out, Y/N. Can’t you do that at least?” Without meeting your eyes, he rose and handed you a slip of paper on his way across the room.<br/>
A phone number was written on it in black ink.<br/>
And just like that, what little remained of your patience died a sudden, painful death.<br/>
“Why are you doing this? Why are you acting like you don’t hate her after what she’s done? You should <i>despise</i> her.”<br/>
The accusation in your tone made him pause in the doorframe, his shoulders sinking on a weary sigh. “Y/N, now is not...”<br/>
“Why not? You started a conversation. You can’t just end it whenever you like and not give the other party a chance to speak their mind.” Abandoning your chair, you slapped the piece of paper with the number onto your desk and stood to be on equal terms with him when your temper flared.<br/>
“That woman threw us both away like trash, then moved on to a new life like we’ve never even been a family. She didn’t care who or what she was leaving behind. She didn’t stay in contact. I haven’t heard her voice in years. And now, just because she randomly remembered that, <i>oh</i>, she still has a daughter and some remnants of a dusty, old life somewhere, she thinks it’s okay to call you up for a chat and ask to speak to me like the past eight years never happened? Does that sound right to you? Why the hell aren’t you pissed off?”<br/>
Upon seeing a series of conflicting emotions flash over his face at your words, you turned away with a start and shoved a crude hand into your hair, unnerved at the way you’d lost your composure. Still breathing heavily after your outburst, you cradled your head as if to physically try and slow down the thundering drumbeat in your ears.<br/>
<i>What the hell…</i><br/>
You didn’t even know what you were doing getting mad at your dad. Wasn’t he suffering in this too?<br/>
Could it be that he <i>still</i> loved her, after everything that had happened?<br/>
Was that why, even now, he couldn’t refuse her when she asked him for a favor?<br/>
If that really was the case…even if it was, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of him as pathetic for that.<br/>
Your anger deflated like a balloon rapidly losing air. Bone-deep resignation flooded every corner of your being instead, bringing with it a wave of exhaustion so strong, you sank back onto the chair.<br/>
It seemed like, this time, <i>you</i> had to be strong enough for the two of you.<br/>
<i>“I’m...sorry.”</i> You didn’t know which one of you uttered the words. The next moment, the door to your room fell shut with a quiet sound and suddenly, an impenetrable wall blocked up the space between you and him. </p><p>~~~</p><p>After a restless night filled with the familiar nightmares of past and new, creative ones your stressed mind threw at you, you were a scatter-brained, bleary-eyed mess at work.<br/>
Sluggish from both physical and mental exhaustion, you somehow knocked over the bucket of dirty water, <i>after</i> you’d already finished vacuuming and wiping the entire penthouse. Thanks to your carelessness, you not only managed to undo all the work you’d already done, but also got the expensive fur rug in the living room soaked. And that although you had rolled it up before starting to keep it from getting wet in the first place...<br/>
Jumin’s cat, Elizabeth The 3rd, who’d been grooming herself as she once again supervised you, watched you mess up from a safe distance, then, full of attitude, padded into Jumin’s office with a sassy side-eye and a flick of her tail, as if she was leaving to write a damage report about your screw-up <i>right now</i>.<br/>
With a heavy sigh, you deposited the soiled rug in the guest bathroom and started mopping up the mess, your mind wandering off again as your body went into auto-pilot with the repetitive motions of your work.<br/>
Judging by the night you’d had, the falling-out with your dad last night over the topic of your resurfacing mother apparently stirred up all your childhood insecurities and lingering anxiousness. On top of those, the past week and the drama on campus seemed to have taken a bigger toll on you than you’d thought, because your nightmares hadn’t just featured the deep-rooted fear of your dad leaving you like your mother had, but also various vivid scenarios of your friends betraying you, or taking advantage of you, or abandoning you...like they already had after the ordeal with Shin.<br/>
Thus, every single one of your nightmares that night involved you ending up all by yourself, one way or another.<br/>
As if that wasn’t enough, you’d been preoccupied all morning, contemplating what to do with the number your dad had given you. You had first considered blocking the number right away to have your peace, but the part of your mind that was still rational had dismissed that idea. Instead, you’d saved it so you would know every time she called, and although deep inside you dreaded the first time the phone would ring, the sinister intention of outright rejecting every call gave you immense satisfaction.<br/>
Despite that, when the first call finally came, you couldn’t do anything but stare at your phone until the lively piano tune that was your ringtone died off into silence. By the time it rang again a few minutes later, you realized that you were under no obligation to answer.<br/>
You owed her <i>nothing</i>. Not even a single phone call.<br/>
When your phone kept chiming, more calls coming in intervals of several minutes, you were briefly tempted to block the number again...but, again, you didn’t.<br/>
Because part of you wanted to make her suffer like she had done to you. Not answering the phone or picking up your calls. Not replying to messages, letting you pour your increasing frustration and despair into your attempts to reach her only to not get through even once and never being able to hear her voice like you’d longed to.<br/>
You knew it wasn’t the same, but your petty side, the wronged child that was still heartbroken over having been discarded like an unwanted puppy someone abandoned on the street once they got sick of it...it wanted her to taste how miserable she had made you feel all those years ago.<br/>
You didn’t care that it was childish to try and get back at her like that, even if it wouldn’t hurt her the same way it had you. It made you feel a little better, at least...<br/>
Until your mind slipped your control and started doing its own thing. With every time your phone screen flashed an incoming call with that number, your mind decided to rewind all the memories from before. All the happy moments and the love and affection you’d shared, the dark times and terrible loneliness that had followed the day she’d thrown you away.<br/>
Your mood got worse with every further incoming call, so you put it on Silent just to not have to be aware of every time it chimed or vibrated. Already, you were sick of hearing your ringtone on repeat like that. You realized that you would never be able to enjoy that particular piece ever again without associating it with the pain of your mother’s betrayal.<br/>
By the time you’d cleaned up the living room a second time, all the while ignoring your phone that you’d shoved out of sight into your bag, not even the thought of your upcoming piano lessons with Jumin was enough to cheer you up anymore.<br/>
Finishing up your work, you thought about letting Jumin know about the soiled rug first, but ended up just wrapping it in plastic and dragging it outside with you when you left.<br/>
You’d just take care of it yourself. Cleaning such an item required special services, so you looked up a place nearby that provided them and dropped it off there on your way home.<br/>
According to your dad’s schedule hanging on the fridge, he didn’t have a session right now, but you could hear piano music coming from his firmly shut office door.<br/>
So...was he actually busy or just pretending to be so he wouldn’t have to talk to you?<br/>
Either way was fine by you.<br/>
You showered, changed into casual clothes, filled Victor’s food bowl, and headed right out again with your music book in your purse, having left a vague note on the kitchen table explaining that you had daily club activities on campus starting today. Your made-up cover for your afternoon lessons with Jumin.<br/>
A few hours remained until the agreed-upon time, so you grabbed some snacks from a convenience store on your way to the central park by the city’s river, about halfway between your home and Jumin’s place. Your favorite bench in the park was free, so you settled down with the snacks, headphones, and your music book to continue working on your composition with the river in front of you as your muse.<br/>
Despite how sleep-deprived you were, you managed to unravel part of the problem you had with the piece thanks to the tranquil view soothing your agitated mind, even getting so absorbed in it that you forgot to check the time. You worked on it until your vision blurred and you looked up to find shades of pink and orange blossoming across the sky and reflecting across the water as the sun said its goodbyes for the day.<br/>
You watched, transfixed by the beautiful sight, how the glowing disk disappeared behind the skyline of tall buildings and the occasional skyscraper, taking with it those streamers of color and the fading warmth that was yet making the autumn days bearable.<br/>
Rubbing your eyes that burned and stung, already tired from lack of sleep before, now strained by the world’s brightness dimming, you packed up your things and left the bench. It was too dark to keep working there, so you would continue this at home…<br/>
When you pulled out your phone to check the time, it almost slipped through your fingers from shock, and not because of the countless missed calls you could see on the screen.<br/>
<i>Crap.</i> You’d silenced your phone because of the annoying calls and forgotten to set an alarm to remind you, now you were late for your appointment with Jumin! And you couldn’t even let him know because you didn’t have his phone number...<br/>
You took off running for the subway, praying that he wouldn’t be mad.<br/>
What if he cancelled your friendship deal over this?</p><p>By the time you made it to his building, you were well over an hour late. Upset with yourself for forgetting something important like that, you rode the elevator upstairs and got off on the top floor where the penthouse was.<br/>
More than a little nervous, you rang the doorbell, fidgeting with your jacket zipper as you waited for Jumin to open. You knew the access code, but since your presence there now wasn’t related to work, it would be a breach of his privacy and trust to let yourself in. You were there as a guest now, so you’d behave like one.<br/>
When the door stayed closed, you rang again, just in case he didn’t hear the first time. But after several minutes, there was still no response.<br/>
Could it be that he wasn’t home yet? He may have been held up at work...<br/>
You tried to remember if you’d seen any lights in the penthouse from outside the building, but you couldn’t be sure, since some of the lights inside were always on even with no one home, like you knew from working there. Something about top floors and roof safety.<br/>
Maybe he was home, but so mad about your tardiness that he’d decided not to see you…<br/>
Would he really be that heartless?<br/>
<i>Ugh.</i> You should’ve asked to exchange numbers in case of an exact situation like this happening, but he’d been in such a hurry when he ushered you out yesterday that he even forgot to tell you his name until you asked.<br/>
Getting tired of pacing around in front of the door, you sat down on the topmost step of the staircase leading up to this floor, determined to wait. If he wasn’t home yet, he’d show up sooner or later. And if he was inside…<br/>
For some reason, you didn’t think he’d be that cruel.<br/>
What you didn’t expect, sitting there on the cool marble steps with your back against the wall, was for the stress and fatigue of the last few days to catch up to you.<br/>
You dozed off while waiting in front of Jumin’s apartment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A careful hand on your shoulder shook you out of your unrestful slumber.<br/>
When you came to, the low-lit hallway had you squinting to bring the blurred figure of who’d woken you into focus.<br/>
A tall man in a wrinkly business suit, small briefcase in hand. Dark hair and pale skin and a face that didn’t seem used to showing emotion.<br/>
<i>Jumin.</i><br/>
You were in front of his home, after all.<br/>
Suppressing a yawn as you rose, too out of it to even feel embarrassed about your unscheduled nap, you blinked up at him drowsily when he spoke.<br/>
“My apologies for the delay. I was called into an emergency meeting and was unable to leave until the situation was resolved.”<br/>
A rectangle of light cut through the dimness of your mind, Jumin waving you through the now open door to the penthouse.<br/>
You stumbled inside and straight to the sofa, letting yourself sink into the plush, leather-covered cushions. While you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, Jumin entered behind you and shrugged off his coat and suit jacket, undoing his tie as he spoke.<br/>
“It’s late, so I understand if our lesson has to be postponed…”<br/>
“That’s alright,” you cut him off, draping your own jacket over the sofa’s back. “It’ll just have to be a short introductory session today. I’d like to, uh, freshen up first, though.” With a sheepish smile at remembering how he’d found you sleeping in front of his home, you put your purse on the coffee table and headed for the guest bathroom, rolling your shoulders to relieve the kink in your neck.<br/>
“In that case…”<br/>
Upon hearing his voice falter behind you, you turned back at the bathroom door to face him.<br/>
Holding his briefcase, he stood in front of his office with one hand on the doorknob, looking pensive. “Would you mind if I called for a meal? Dinner time has passed, and I haven’t eaten since lunch.”<br/>
You shook your head. “Go ahead.”<br/>
Despite your reply, he still didn’t move or open his office door. “Have you had dinner?”<br/>
Taken off guard by the question, it took you a moment to answer. “...I have not.”<br/>
“Then, I will arrange for us to have a meal together. It would be rude to let a guest go hungry.”<br/>
Slightly amused by his choice of words and more than surprised by his courteousness, you nodded and flicked on the light switch. “Thank you.”<br/>
You fixed your hair and splashed your face with cold water, finding it ironic that the most rest you’d gotten in the last twenty-four hours had been in the hallway in front of Jumin’s place. Even the neck pain was worth it. You barely remembered having had any concrete nightmares during your nap, just a vague feeling of unease that permeated the strained monotony of your sleep.<br/>
Maybe your brain had finally shut down after running on fumes all day. Tirelessly grinding out intrusive thoughts and useless what-ifs seemed to use up a lot of mental energy…<br/>
Having taken care of your appearance, even though you couldn’t do much about the dark circles under your eyes, you stepped back out and checked your phone, just in case your dad had messaged you. Aside from a bunch of missed calls from the forbidden number, there was nothing, but the time had you doing a double take.<br/>
It was almost eight o’clock. Three hours after you’d been supposed to meet Jumin for lessons, and a whole lot later than you’d thought it was. You would just have to come up with an excuse for your dad later…<br/>
You set your phone down beside your purse and stood, stretching to loosen up a body still stiff from sleeping in a strange position on a hard surface. As if unable to withstand its magnetic pull, your eyes wandered to the grand piano dominating the living room. Maybe you could play for a few minutes before the lesson began?<br/>
Just then, Jumin returned from inside his office. “I’d like to take a few minutes to wash up and change. Please excuse my discourtesy and make yourself at home. You may, of course, use the piano in the meantime, if you need to prepare for our lesson.”<br/>
Your eyes must have lit up at his words, because a smile tugged at his lips when, after your nod, he disappeared towards the master bedroom.<br/>
Not wasting any time, you seated yourself on the music stool and lifted the cover, brushing your fingertips over the smooth keys with reverent admiration.<br/>
The last time you’d touched it, you hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to marvel at the instrument’s beauty. But now that it was right under your hands, you could pay it the tribute it deserved.<br/>
It was indeed a magnificent grand piano. You had never before had the chance to get this up close and personal with an instrument of this caliber before, let alone touch it. But now you would finally get to play on it, too...<br/>
Unable to resist any longer, you hastily retrieved your music book from your purse and launched straight into bringing your personal composition to life.<br/>
You played the entire piece as it was first, letting the melody permeate the empty space around you like tendrils of wind stirring up stagnant air. After hearing how it sounded as a whole, you repeated the parts you’d been having trouble with, until the notes that were out of place gradually came to the foreground and announced their flaw to your ears.<br/>
It was like when reading a text, your brain automatically started highlighting the important parts after you’ve skimmed over it for the third time. At some point, you could hear which tones were wrong and knew where to change the tempo or mood to fix the overall tune.<br/>
Barely fifteen minutes after you’d begun noting down corrections in your music book, you were playing the revised version of your composition when Jumin reentered the living room behind you. As you let the last few notes of the melody fade, he walked around to stand beside the piano, now wearing casual pants and a soft v-neck sweater. Judging by his damp hair, he must have taken a shower too.<br/>
Feeling much more centered after what, to you, was essentially a therapeutic experience, you closed your music book with a dreamy smile. It had only been a week since you’d last played, but with how your stress and anxiety had been piling up lately, touching a piano again was akin to the relaxation and relief a full-body massage gave you after weeks of hard physical labor.<br/>
Beside you, Jumin ran a hand through his hair, the water drops clinging to the glistening strands catching the light. “You compose your own music?”<br/>
Suddenly embarrassed, since it was the first time you’d ever played one of your creations in front of someone, you gave a slow nod. “It needed some improvement, but I think it’s done now...what do you think?” You didn’t know why you were anxious for his opinion, holding your breath as you nervously searched his face.<br/>
Instead of answering right away, he reached for your music book and flipped it open to the page marked for the piece you’d been playing. “How long have you been doing this for?” The question was almost off-hand, his eyes gliding over the arrangement of notes and staves as if he was reading a business report.<br/>
Blinking, you watched him leaf through your book, not stopping at the last page of the relevant piece, but looking at your other compositions as well. “I wrote my first piece when I was nine. Why?”<br/>
You wondered if he was actually as well versed in music as he made it seem, or if he was pretending. But...he didn’t seem like the type of person to put on an act. Then again, he’d said he knew how to play, so it made sense for him to know how to read sheet music.<br/>
Still...you couldn’t read him. He was so guarded with his expressions and words, it was like he constantly behaved as if he was in the middle of crucial business negotiations. He didn’t betray any of his thoughts or inner musings to the world, lest someone try to take advantage of his state of mind and tilt the odds in their favor.<br/>
“You’re quite talented.”<br/>
Astonished by the unexpected compliment, you felt your face flush with delight, and a little bit of embarrassment. You hadn’t thought that hearing those words from him would make you so happy. “Th-thank you.” You accepted the book when he handed it to you, bounding to your feet to go put it back in your purse. You wouldn’t risk forgetting it here. You’d lose your mind if you did.<br/>
That done, you returned to stand beside the grand piano, glancing up at Jumin. “So, uh...shall we get started?”<br/>
He nodded at your words. “The food should arrive shortly, but we can just take a break then.”<br/>
“Great!” Overcome with nervous anticipation, followed by a sudden wave of enthusiasm, you clapped your hands once. “I’d suggest we start by having you play something. I’d like to hear you play, maybe a few of your favorite pieces. Let’s say it’s a type of skill evaluation. I need to hear you play to get a feel for what your problem is, to know what to work on with you. You should just go for it, I’d say, about thirty seconds of each piece to start off, back to back...” You noticed that you were rambling a little but were unable to stop, nudging him towards the stool. It seemed like your expected performance as a teacher had your nerves on edge…<br/>
He told you his picks beforehand, wanting to make sure that you had at least heard them before. As it turned out, you were familiar with them all.<br/>
And thus, your first lesson began.<br/>
For a few minutes, you just let him play, listening and watching intently.<br/>
His abilities exceeded your expectations. He hit the right notes and chords, in accurate combinations, at the correct tempo and with the proper emphasis.<br/>
His technical skill was near perfect.<br/>
But, much like someone who held a speech by merely reading the words off of a paper, he wasn’t emotionally invested. His eyes followed his hands’ movements, calculating and planning ahead at a rhythmic level what keys came next, and not at all feeling the music’s mood or it’s longing to merge with the players’ emotions before flowing out into the world.<br/>
In short: his heart wasn’t in it. And judging by the fact that he was playing every single piece that way, he didn’t seem to know how to do that at all...<br/>
You let him keep going for a few uninterrupted minutes, even going beyond the pieces he had told you, before signaling for him to come to an end. "Your technique is immaculate, but - holy hell, how many pieces do you have memorized?"<br/>
His fingers stilled, his eyes unfocusing as if he was going over them in his head.<br/>
"Stop that, I didn't mean for you to actually count the damn pieces you know by heart.” You rolled your eyes with a wry smile, tapping the glossy surface of the instrument with two fingers. “What I was saying is, you play outstandingly well, but your interaction with the instrument is cold and impersonal. Like a business relationship!"<br/>
Hah. You were proud of yourself for coming up with an analogy he would be able to work with.<br/>
"You see it as a mere tool, but the piano isn't what produces emotion. YOU are. The piano only gives them back in the form of sound.”<br/>
Flustered by the intense focus in his eyes as he listened to you explain, you started pacing back and forth along the piano’s side.<br/>
“Sure, every composition has a certain emotional message to convey, but that's why no two pianists play the same melody in the same way. Each individual adds their own emotions and experiences into the piece to make it their own. Therefore, the music doesn't come from the piano, it comes out of you! If you don't let the music come from your heart, your soul even...the instrument can't work any magic for you. So, put your feelings into your hands, feel the keys under your fingers, and <i>coax</i> the music out of your soul." Nodding vigorously to emphasize your words, you pointed at the grand piano, caught up in the heat of talking about something you were passionate about.<br/>
“It’s <i>not</i> just a tool. You have to...uhm…” You worried your lower lip with your teeth, trying to arrange the thoughts flitting around your head into sensible sentences.<br/>
“...oh! I got it. Think of your connection with the piano, while you play, as a symbiotic process. One alone can’t weave any magic by itself. Both sides have to contribute for it to be successful.” Pleased with the way you’d managed to put your abstract thoughts into words, you glanced back at Jumin. “Does that make sense?”<br/>
Turning back to the keys in front of him, he nodded slowly, as if still contemplating your explanation. “It does...”<br/>
“Great! How about you give it a try, then?” Huh, this was going better than expected.<br/>
“Try a single melody this time.” You couldn’t read what was going on in the depths of his dark eyes, yet anticipation swelled inside you when he placed his hands on the keys once more.<br/>
Music filled the air...but it still sounded lifeless, like he was withholding his emotions.<br/>
Maybe you had underestimated how difficult this would be. He <i>had</i> likened his skill to a robot’s, after all.<br/>
With a soft sigh, you poked his shoulder to make him stop playing. "What do you think of when you're playing?"<br/>
At the frown creasing his forehead, you couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or if that was just the face he made when concentrating. "Obviously, the progression of the keys and tones."<br/>
You shook your head. "Wrong. In order for you to give justice to the piece you're playing, you have to match your mood to it. If it's a happy piece, you think about happy times in your life and pour the emotions it evokes into the music. If it's melancholic, you draw inspiration from the dark moments, the sad and painful ones. If it's an intense, energetic melody, you think back to instances where you were overtaken by anger, or strong excitement.”<br/>
You started pacing again, your hand gliding over the surface of the instrument as you trailed it along behind you. “You can't just hit the keys in the order and combinations you memorized. You have to let your fingers work the keys like you're rifling through the many files and folders in the drawers of your soul, to feed the piano all the documents you signed your name on with your heart's blood."<br/>
This time, there was clearly confusion on his face, along with a hint of impatience. “So, what is it that I’m required to do?”<br/>
It seemed like your flowery words were wasted on him. If he had a hard time accessing his emotions, you would start him off with something easier first.<br/>
“Let’s try having you play with your eyes closed. Choose a piece you know really well, then play without looking at the keys. Try to <i>feel</i> the notes as they come, instead of thinking about them in advance...”<br/>
Several fruitless attempts later, the doorbell rang.<br/>
“Keep going, I’ll get it.” Waving him on, you turned towards the door.<br/>
But he rose with a shake of his head and grasped your shoulders, gently pushing you onto the piano stool instead. “You play now. I have to get my wallet.”<br/>
Ignoring your protests, he swung by the bedroom for his wallet, then went to answer the door.<br/>
Damn. There goes your effort to pay for the food.<br/>
With a sigh, you decided to settle the bill with him later and started a languid, flowing melody, losing yourself in the way the notes burbled along like water in a small creek. Monotonous pieces like that one were best to get your creativity running. Now that you’d fixed your composition from before, you were itching to start on a new one. So you let your fingers do the work as your mind drifted off, thinking about the kind of tunes you wanted to put down on paper next...<br/>
“Food’s here.”<br/>
You jumped at Jumin’s sudden voice behind you, the melody derailing into a bunch of misplaced tones as your startled hand struck the wrong keys.<br/>
Pressing a hand to your chest on a deep, steadying inhale to calm your jumpy nerves, you covered the keyboard and got to your feet. You’d gotten so carried away, you had completely forgotten that you weren’t alone at home but a guest at somebody else’s house.<br/>
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”<br/>
“Don’t worry about it. I got too absorbed…” You waved his apology off with an embarrassed laugh, avoiding his eyes as he walked you to the kitchen, where he had laid out the food.<br/>
...which looked more like a feast than a meal for two.<br/>
Slack-jawed at the spread of sushi dishes awaiting you on the dining table, you didn’t even notice how he pulled out a chair for you. “That’s...a lot. I don’t think we’ll be able to finish it all.”<br/>
“I wasn’t aware of your preferences, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Jumin said it in a matter-of-fact way, as if it was natural to buy the entire menu when you didn’t know what to get someone. After making sure you were seated comfortably, he took the chair opposite yours, picking up a pair of fancy metal chopsticks instead of the disposable wooden ones that usually came with delivery food. “Please, help yourself.”<br/>
The first bite of succulent fish over perfectly cooked, slightly vinegary rice told you that, had you succeeded in footing the bill, it probably would have cost you half a month’s salary.<br/>
But, god, did it taste good.<br/>
You’d eaten sushi before, many times, but it had never been of this quality or variety.<br/>
Jumin encouraged you to try several types of fish you had never had before, draped over rice, rolled in seaweed, or on their own as fresh sashimi slices dipped in soy sauce and wasabi. There was even Japanese-style eel, grilled to perfection and slathered in a thick, savory-sweet glaze that had your taste buds doing a happy dance.<br/>
The two of you ate quietly for a while, savoring the food, until the continued silence started feeling awkward to you. Just when you were about to strike up a conversation, however, you noticed him slow down, his fingers repeatedly tightening around the chopsticks he held, like he’d forgotten he was in the middle of having dinner.<br/>
It was how you imagined he might act during a meeting, absentmindedly twisting a pen in his hands as he considered an important business proposal.<br/>
Then his gaze landed on you, and you felt heat scorch your face over being caught staring at him like that.<br/>
“May I...ask you a question?”<br/>
You hadn’t expected those words. What could he possibly want to know? “Uh...sure.”<br/>
Curious, you raised your eyes to his face, saw how he was watching you with an almost thoughtful look in his.<br/>
“It might be a little too personal…” As if embarrassed, he glanced away, putting down his utensils as he spoke, only to pick them back up the next second. He seemed preoccupied, almost restless even.<br/>
A smile tugged at your lips upon seeing him like that, forgetting all about the awkwardness from before.<br/>
So he <i>did</i> have some rare moments where he wasn’t calm and collected. It was unexpectedly cute...<br/>
“Friends get to be personal with each other. Ask away.”<br/>
“Very well.” He cleared his throat, then reached out with his chopsticks to grab the big piece of marinated eel you’d been eyeing and casually placed it on your plate. “Your love for music is obvious, and with your skill and potential, you could easily qualify for a full scholarship at any renowned music college. So...why is it that you’re in business school?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had expected him to ask about your circumstances sooner or later, but this particular question, you <i>hadn’t</i> anticipated.<br/>
As you pushed a lonely rice grain around on your plate, you thought about what to tell him. You didn’t really want to burden him with your messed up life story, or worse, make him pity you, but you felt that, since he was the one giving you the chance to make music again, he deserved to know the truth.<br/>
So you told him about your father’s unfortunate career outcomes, and how they had led to his misguided efforts to suppress your love for music after carefully nurturing it in the first place. You left out the part about your mother, though, since it didn’t have to do with his question...and because you weren’t ready to talk about it yet, not after yesterday’s events.<br/>
“...For years, I kept trying to find a way to continue doing what I love behind his back. Until there was barely any time left until I’d graduate highschool and I realized that I was going to miss out on choosing my own path because of him.” With a sigh, you swirled the glass of sparkling water he’d poured you in the middle of your story, watching the bubbly liquid churn like a tiny maelstrom.<br/>
Much like your emotions did from recounting the past.<br/>
“But - being the willful, rebellious teenager that I was back then - I got cocky when my secret applications for a music scholarship went through, and, like a fool, had to go and boast to my friends about being invited to the auditions.” Going silent, you took a sip of your water, more to give yourself a break than because you were thirsty.<br/>
You hadn’t intended to mention this particular incident, but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted someone to know. After enduring it for years, how your dad selfishly kept all the music to himself and forbid you to practice or even just play on his piano for fun, always finding new ways to limit your contact with the thing you loved…what he’d done on that day had been the proverbial last straw.<br/>
And now, you were desperate for someone to be on your side for once, to understand why a part of you couldn’t help but hate your dad after that day. And still did.<br/>
“It was my fault to begin with, for thoughtlessly blurting it out in class, but when I thought about it later, it must have been one of his clients or their parents who mentioned it to him. As a private music teacher, some of my friends from school who lived in our neighborhood had lessons with him as well, you know?” You chanced a quick peek at Jumin as you spoke, found him watching you with a look of unreadable intensity in his dark eyes.<br/>
As usual, you had no idea what he was thinking. It was kind of unfair how he wasn’t giving you the slightest hint of a reaction when you were basically laying your soul bare in front of him…<br/>
“Anyways, my dad found out about the auditions...and somehow, he did something to get them to rescind my invite.” To this day, you didn’t know how he’d done it. There was no explanation in the rejection letters that came in the following days, just vague excuses from every single college that had previously invited you to audition, telling you to please disregard any prior communication.<br/>
But you’d known it was him. You’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d passed you the envelopes.<br/>
“I went on strike after that. I didn’t tell him why, but I took a break after graduating, spending my time putting all my chaotic feelings down in my music book and working every part-time job I could find. Naive as I was, I was determined to save up enough money to be able to pay the tuition fees myself after my chance at a scholarship fell through.” You let out a short  laugh suffused with bitterness as you thought back to that time you’d been fresh out of highschool, thinking the world was an easy place.<br/>
“It took me a while to realize that college cost more than I could scratch together even after two years of countless odd jobs. So, to do something useful with my time and to get rid of my dad’s lingering suspicion, I enrolled for business classes, and he was more than glad to pay for those, thinking I’d given up on my dream.”<br/>
Although you weren’t hungry anymore, you ate the piece of eel Jumin had given you, chewing the bite of tender, glazed fish and crunchy seaweed with slow deliberation. “My objective is still the same, though. I’m saving up for my own tuition. If I happen to clinch a business major on the way, even better. At least I’d have something to fall back on if my dad’s fears prove true.”<br/>
You washed the story down with the rest of your carbonated water, the bursting bubbles pricking your tongue with the sensation of a hundred tiny bites.<br/>
“That’s why I was all over your piano the other day when you walked in. I couldn’t resist the temptation after going through withdrawal for that long.” The words were filled with obviously artificial cheer, your embarrassed smile further debasing your already halfhearted attempt to brighten up the mood. “And that’s the story of why, at 22, I’m still only in my second year of college, and that <i>not</i> even for the program of my choice. What do you think? Could be straight out of a drama, right?”<br/>
All that without counting in the headache-inducing mess of your mother’s betrayal...<br/>
Jumin, who’d calmly finished his meal without interrupting once, gracefully dabbed at his lips with a napkin. Then, after refilling both your glasses, he finally spoke. “First of all, while I can’t speak for his talent or skill, I will say that your father was being entirely irrational in his assumption that your career in music would fail just because his did.”<br/>
There it was, the understanding and support you’d been longing for. “<i>Right?</i> I mean, what kind of logic <i>is</i> that? It’s like...it’s like declaring all bodies of water off-limits because, sometimes, people drown.”<br/>
Across from you, Jumin’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “An interesting analogy, but I suppose you’re not wrong. Although we must not forget the terrible threat of shark attacks…“<br/>
He’d said it in such a deadpan way that you didn’t catch it at first.<br/>
“Exac-...” When your brain finally registered his words, your jaw dropped. “Jumin, did you just…are you making <i>fun</i> of me?”<br/>
Honestly, you didn’t even know what you were more shocked about. The fact that he actually had a sense of humor, or that he was using it to mock you.<br/>
As he took a drink of his water, his eyes sparkled with withheld laughter over the rim of his glass. “I would never.”<br/>
A not very ladylike snort escaped you at that, and you reached for your own glass to hide the grin breaking out over your face.<br/>
So, the eternally poker-faced Jumin Han could crack jokes, huh? Maybe this friendship wasn’t as hopeless as you’d initially thought…<br/>
As if at a loss about what to do after your conversation derailed like that, the not so poker-faced man sitting opposite you cleared his throat. “To return to the topic at hand…Thank you for answering my question and sharing your personal matters with me. I would like to offer my assistance as a friend by covering the college expenses for you, so please go ahead and enroll…”<br/>
In the middle of taking another sip, the gasp his words evoked opened up the wrong pipe, making you cough and wheeze as you choked on your beverage.<br/>
Desperate for air, you thumped your own chest until you could somewhat breathe again. “Jumin, <i>no</i>…” Tears of strain blurred your vision as you gaped at him in helpless shock, your chest heaving.<br/>
He stared back almost as wide-eyed, swiftly handing you a napkin. “Are you alright?”<br/>
You took a few seconds to make sure your airways were cleared of the liquid, wiping your mouth and blinking away the moisture in your eyes. “I’m good…”<br/>
Carefully this time, you drank some water to soothe your sore throat. “Uh…just to let you know, Jumin…friends don’t offer to pay each other’s astronomical tuition fees, just like they don’t casually gift each other grand pianos. That’s just something you don’t do, among friends. Hell, not even among <i>family</i>.” A firm nod to emphasize your hoarse statement.<br/>
“They don’t?” He sounded genuinely surprised, raising a hand to rub his chin pensively. “But the presents my father and I exchange are usually more expensive than that single instrument. Why is that an inappropriate gift for a friend?”<br/>
You almost rolled your eyes.<br/>
This guy was <i>so</i> oblivious...<br/>
“Because most people don’t have that amount of extra money laying around to spend on friends. Not even if they wanted to. And something like that is just too big of a favor to do someone, <i>especially</i> if they can’t reciprocate.” Since neither of you seemed interested in eating more, you offhandedly started packing the leftovers back into the plastic dishes they’d come in.<br/>
Jumin helped, and when you stood at the sink to wash the dishes the two of you had used, he simply stepped next to you after putting the leftovers in the fridge, and began drying off whatever you handed him with a dishcloth.<br/>
“Then...what about letting a friend use one of your belongings? Something the friend doesn’t have.”<br/>
“That’s fine. It’s like letting a friend borrow something of yours, knowing they’ll give it back at some point.” You finished rinsing the chopsticks and found a second, clean towel to dry your hands on.<br/>
“Good.” This time, it was a real smile that he flashed you. “Because I want you to use my piano whenever you like. It’s the least I can do to compensate for the lessons you’re giving me.”<br/>
Before you could protest - did you even want to? - he stepped towards you to wipe his own hands on the towel you were still holding.<br/>
All of a sudden, he was so close, you couldn’t think properly.<br/>
<i>Damn.</i> Had he been that good-looking all along? Even at that proximity, his pale skin proved flawless, - even nicer than yours -, his eyes a translucent, almost purplish gray that seemed to reflect a dozen other hues when it caught a ray of light.<br/>
Standing close together like that, you noticed for the first time how tall he was. Although he wasn’t wearing a suit, his presence was imposing, a natural grace evident in the very way he conducted himself.<br/>
It made him beautiful, in a detached kind of way, much like a piece of art displayed in an exhibition. Both drew the eye, making it hard to look away once you’d caught sight of them…<br/>
The moment passed when, hands now thoroughly dried, he turned to stack the clean dinnerware back into the cupboards and drawers, leaving you reeling.<br/>
“So the next time you’re early, or I’m delayed, please let yourself in and play to your heart’s content.” Unaware of the mess he’d left your thoughts in, he kept on talking.<br/>
“I’m not here much in the daytime during the week, except to feed Elizabeth The 3rd and, as of late, for our lessons. But you’re welcome to stop by even on the weekends. Consider this your secret refuge where you have a piano waiting for you to play it.”<br/>
Something stirred in your chest at the unexpected kindness of his proposition, leaving you at a loss for words. Even when he turned back to face you, you just stared at him in silent awe until, out of nowhere, something brushed around your ankles, making you jump approximately three feet high in fright.<br/>
“Careful.” Jumin grasped your waist to steady you when your trajectory had you inelegantly bouncing off his chest.<br/>
You felt like one of those cartoon characters getting startled so bad, they accidentally hopped into the arms of whoever stood next to them.<br/>
Jumin’s aforementioned furry housemate threw you a contemptuous glare as she moved on to rub against her owner’s legs instead. <i>At least</i> he’s <i>not making a fool of himself</i>, her blue eyes seemed to say.<br/>
“S-sorry,” you mumbled, feeling your face burn as you put some distance between yourself and Jumin. Annoyed at your own clumsiness, you huffed out a breath and pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear to mask your embarrassment. “I should be used to that. My cat does it to me all the time.”<br/>
Jumin’s eyes seemed to light up at that. “You’re a cat lover as well?”<br/>
“Yup. My Vic’s a rescued stray though, not pure-bred like I’m guessing Elizabeth The 3rd is...”<br/>
Your eyes fell on the clock mounted to the kitchen wall.<br/>
Quarter past ten. You’d get an earful if you got home any later than that.<br/>
Becoming the single parent of a pubescent 14 year old girl had resulted in your dad being overprotective to the point that, once you’d reached adulthood, his way of looking after you had the tendency to infringe upon your independence and liberties, even as a 22 year old.<br/>
Since he was still your father, however, and since he refused to let you chip in with paying rent, saying that it was his responsibility to provide for you until you had your own home, the least you could do was to respect that he didn’t want you coming home too late.<br/>
There wasn’t exactly a curfew for you to live by, but you’d agreed on at least letting him <i>know</i> when you’d be home later than expected, which you hadn’t done today. The way things had gone with your unforeseen nap and Jumin’s hold-up at work, followed by the short piano lesson and  getting carried away talking over dinner…you had plain forgotten to text your dad that you’d be late. So, you already knew to expect a talking-to later.<br/>
With a sigh, you turned back to your host. Spending time with him had turned out to be more enjoyable than you’d expected, so the fact that you had to leave already…it bothered you more than it should have. You shouldn’t feel this reluctant to leave…considering your next lesson would probably be as soon as tomorrow.<br/>
“I’m sorry to cut the evening short, Jumin, but it’s getting pretty late. I should get going…”<br/>
He looked up from where he’d hunkered down to pet Elizabeth The 3rd, his eyes gleaming with obvious affection for his pet as she gleefully purred under his hands. “Give me a moment to grab my coat, I’ll take you home.”<br/>
<i>Oh.</i> But…why did that surprise you when he’d been acting like the perfect gentleman the entire night?<br/>
“You don’t have to do that. It’s too far and too late to trouble you with that-”<br/>
“Nonsense. Besides, the distance of your home and the late hour are the exact reasons why I can’t sit by and let you take the bus. The least I can do for you, <i>my friend</i>, is to drive you home. Especially since our plans were delayed because of me.” He gave you a knowing look, a smirk flirting with the corners of his lips. “Or are you going to tell me that friends don’t do that for each other?”<br/>
Thoroughly bested, you could do nothing but scowl at the smug man in front of you, using your own words against you.<br/>
This guy seemed to pick up on things fast...just <i>not</i> when it came to your lessons.<br/>
“I thought as much.” Rising from his crouch, he brushed off a few white cat hairs clinging to his clothes and nudged you out of the kitchen. “Go, grab your things, I will only need a minute.”<br/>
Still grumbling at how he’d beat you with your own weapons, you collected your jacket, phone and purse, making sure your music book was safely inside.<br/>
True to his words, he caught up to you by the door soon after, stopping to slip on a coat and his shoes.<br/>
Huh. Funny how you hadn’t noticed once that he’d been wearing a pair of cozy looking slippers. Until now, you hadn’t been able to imagine him in anything but the polished patent leather shoes that went hand in hand with his suits. It didn’t help that, even in casual clothing, he held himself with almost formal poise, his demeanor even then restrained and carefully controlled. As if he was wearing an invisible dress shirt with a starched collar and a tie at all times…<br/>
Your musings had you so distracted that you didn’t notice him reaching for the car keys on the wall-mounted hook above your head, until the edge of his coat brushed your face, jolting you back to the present.<br/>
The present in which his chest was all you could see as he stretched to retrieve the key, his weight braced on the arm he had against the wall beside your head so as to not crush you.<br/>
“Excuse me...” Keys in hand, he retreated and pulled the door open for you, somehow overlooking the way your burning face had to be displaying more shades of red than a flower shop on Valentine’s Day.<br/>
What was <i>wrong</i> with you?<br/>
Not even the few times Shin had kissed you in the course of your short relationship had left you that flustered…<br/>
You stayed a step behind Jumin as the two of you walked to the elevator, belatedly noticing the plastic bag in his hand as you willed your frantic heartbeat to calm down.<br/>
“Oh! Did you try the cookies I left yesterday?” In your frenzy to hide your embarrassment, you accidentally blurted out the question when it randomly popped into your head.<br/>
He briefly glanced over at you as he went for the button to summon the elevator. “I should have known that it was you who brought them. What bakery did you buy them from? I’d like to sample some more of their desserts…”<br/>
You froze at his words. “Oh, uhm...those were homemade.”<br/>
“I see.”<br/>
The arriving elevator kept you from seeing his expression. When the car started descending after you both had stepped inside, you chanced a peek at him. “Did you…like them?”<br/>
As if pondering what to say, he was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on your face through the reflection on the elevator door’s glossy surface. “I’ve never had these ‘cookies’ before, but...I found I quite liked yours.”<br/>
You couldn’t <i>not</i> smile at him at the feeling of giddy satisfaction his words evoked in you, warming you from the inside. “I’m glad you did. I’ll save you a share the next time I make something. I may not be a baker by trade, but I’ll make you acknowledge me as your favorite pastry chef!”<br/>
It was meant half in joke, because you probably couldn’t surpass the fine dining desserts he was used to with your mundane creations, no matter how good your baking skills were, but you still decided to bring him a portion of whatever future pastries you’d come up with. If just to see the look on his face when he tried them…<br/>
If he hadn’t been familiar with cookies before, you’d make it your new mission to introduce him to the world of common sweet treats, a field you had outstanding expertise in.<br/>
That was because, in your experience, nothing could mend a broken heart or dull emotional pain as well as sugar…<i>then</i>, your mind suddenly piped up, <i>shouldn’t it also be able to accomplish the opposite, like draw out emotions buried behind a protective layer, or ten?</i><br/>
The saying ‘the way to someone’s heart is through the stomach’ seemed like a wise idea just then, and might prove helpful in your endeavor to get Jumin in touch with his emotional side.<br/>
Or maybe you were just using all of this as an excuse to bake more and eat more sweets yourself.<br/>
But...if it got the job done, did it even matter?</p><p>~~~</p><p>Jumin drove you home in a sleek black car that somehow suited him and his personality perfectly.<br/>
Neither of you spoke much on the way, except for when you gave him directions on how to get to your apartment once you were close enough to your neighborhood to recognize the streets around you.<br/>
As you waved him goodbye after he’d dropped you off at the curb, however, he suddenly lowered the window on the passenger side and called you back instead of taking off.<br/>
You walked back the few steps you’d gone. “What is it?”<br/>
“...forgot something,” you heard him say, his voice sounding muffled as he twisted to retrieve something from the back seat. The next moment, he handed you the plastic bag he’d brought with him earlier. A glimpse inside revealed the contents to be the leftovers of the meal you’d shared, almost enough to feed another two people.<br/>
“No-...”<br/>
“Give me your phone for a moment.” He cut you off before you could say anything about the food. With a smirk that reminded you of a cat, he stuck his hand out through the window that was now rolled down only far enough for a hand to fit through.<br/>
As if he’d known you’d try to give back the food he already hadn’t let you split the bill for.<br/>
“That sneaky…” The man definitely spent too much time with his cat.<br/>
Muttering curses under your breath, you gave him your phone anyways, glowering as you watched him add his number to your contacts.<br/>
No matter, you’d just have to buy <i>him</i> dinner next time.<br/>
“Give me a call when you’re inside, so I can save your number as well. This way we can let each other know if something comes up again, in case one of us is delayed or has to cancel.” His eyes still twinkled with that light that said he’d outplayed you when he pulled away and disappeared into the night’s traffic, leaving you standing there, speechless, with your phone and an expensive bag of food in your hand.</p><p>Your luck seemed to have held, because you didn’t encounter your dad once you entered your apartment. He did usually go to bed pretty early, so either he hadn’t stayed up to wait for you to return, or he was in his office.<br/>
That meant that, in case he did end up bringing it up tomorrow, if you played your cards right, you at least wouldn’t be getting a lecture <i>today</i>.<br/>
<i>Phew.</i><br/>
After putting away the food, you tiptoed to your room, taking extra care to be quiet as to not alert your dad, if he was still up. Despite the nap you’d had, the eventful day left you tired, but you weren’t ready for bed just yet. Suppressing a yawn, you washed up and changed into your sleeping attire, then, excited to go over what you’d achieved today, you pulled out your music book.<br/>
Like a mental recording, the revised melody played in your head from start to finish as you leafed through the corrected version of your composition. Your lips blossomed into a delighted smile when you recalled Jumin’s praise.<br/>
<i>“You’re quite talented.”</i><br/>
Humming softly to yourself, you opened a clean page and took down the rough succession of notes for a melody that had been swirling around in your head ever since hearing Jumin play the piano. You didn’t know where you were going with this yet, but it seemed that your mind had decided that Jumin was to be your latest muse…<br/>
Just when you put away your sheet music and got into bed, you remembered his parting words to you. Mildly curious to know what he had saved himself as, you took out your phone to check - not paying any mind to the countless missed calls from a certain unwanted number -, but were disappointed to find his contact under his plain full name.<br/>
“You’re no fun, Jumin Han.”<br/>
So unimaginative...then again, you didn’t know what you’d expected, considering he had literally cracked a single joke only in all the time you’d known him…<br/>
Pouting, you briefly considered changing the display name to something else, but ended up dismissing that thought fairly quickly. You <i>did</i> intend to change it at some point…as soon as you came up with a proper nickname for him.<br/>
Highly amused by the mischievous thoughts running through your head, you nestled down under the covers and hit the call button. Your intention had been to hang up after letting it ring a few times, just to make sure the call went through properly.<br/>
What you <i>didn’t</i> expect, was for him to pick up on the second ring.<br/>
“Jumin Han.” A cool, succinct greeting. Very business-appropriate.<br/>
Just like you had imagined how he would answer the phone...now why the hell had he <i>actually</i> answered!?<br/>
“Oh, uhm...hi. It’s Y/N.”<br/>
“Hello, Y/N.” There was very little background noise, so you had no way to tell if he was still in the car or back at his apartment already.<br/>
You were getting fidgety for some reason. “You said to...to call so you’d have my number?”<br/>
“Yes, thank you. I will save your number.” A bell noise echoed through the phone, like the chime of an elevator when it reached its destination. He must have just arrived home.<br/>
“That’s, uh, good.” You cleared your throat when he didn’t respond, heard the distinctive  sound of his door being unlocked as he seemed to be entering his apartment.<br/>
Plenty of background noises now. But the human on the other end of the line? Still silent.<br/>
<i>Awkward…</i><br/>
This was terrible. You’d known he wasn’t much of a small talker, but at least face to face you could somewhat read the mood by what he did - or didn’t - show in his expressions. Yet, connected over the phone like this, you were completely blind, and it didn’t seem to occur to him to fill the visual blanks for you.<br/>
More silence.<br/>
You were about to bid him farewell and hang up when he <i>finally</i> said something.<br/>
“We forgot to confirm the details about the next lesson. Is tomorrow feasible for you?”<br/>
You didn’t let him hear your sigh of relief when it came. “Sure. The same time we were supposed to meet today?”<br/>
“That would be ideal. I will make sure not to be delayed at work again.”<br/>
You could hear Elizabeth The 3rd’s purrs through the phone. He must be lavishing his attentions on her again.<br/>
“Uh-huh.” Rolling your eyes, you lifted the edge of the blanket when your own furry friend came to join you in bed.<br/>
Victor liked it warm and cozy. The best way to achieve that was to steal your body heat. Sometimes you wondered if he even saw you as anything but a source of warmth and food and cuddles on demand.<br/>
Inspired by your train of thought, you made a mental note to ask Jumin what he considered Elizabeth The 3rd to be. Somehow, you didn’t think he’d call her a ‘friend’ like you did Victor, mutually applicable or not.<br/>
He <i>had</i> called her his princess back when he’d introduced her to you…<br/>
But if she was his princess, then, was he, perhaps... her human slave?<br/>
You had to hold your breath to contain your amused snort.<br/>
“Then, I will see you tomorrow.” He sounded like this was his equivalent of ‘bye-bye’.<br/>
“Jumin?”<br/>
A pause. Then, “...Yes?”<br/>
“I...I had fun today.” You felt like you had to tell him. “And thank you for dinner. I’m looking forward to our coming lessons…”<br/>
When he spoke next, the words sounded softer, like he was holding back a smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Goodnight, Y/N.”<br/>
“Goodnight, Jumin.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I had a hard time deciding if I should end the chapter there or keep going, but I eventually decided to do it like this (which has nothing to do with the fact that I wasn't done writing out what comes after the brownie scene...or did it? ;P).<br/>Anyways, enjoy this chapter and please look forward to next week's update! I had a few exciting things in mind for this fic, but now the story is literally evolving out of my hands by itself...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The remainder of the week passed by in a blur. You had lessons with Jumin almost every day, would eat dinner with him occasionally afterwards, and managed to kick off your stealthy campaign of getting him acquainted with your kind of desserts by bringing some of your favorite sweets for him to try - starting with a box of the powdered doughnuts you had a serious weakness for.<br/>
The man had the audacity to stop after a single bite of the sugary, doughy goodness, calling them something as preposterous as ‘too sweet’.<br/>
You almost rescinded his friend status right then and there.<br/>
But the more time you spent with him, the more you learned to appreciate his keen mind, quick wit, and <i>not</i> inexistent sense of humor.<br/>
You also found out that, despite the multitude of physical and intellectual assets he possessed, he did have some imperfections. Which was something you’d normally be thankful for...if it didn’t affect the one thing you’d been trying to help him improve in.<br/>
Thus, your class-free days of post-exam relaxation ended, without much meaningful progress in your lessons of <i>How to incorporate emotions when playing the piano</i>.<br/>
Then you had classes to attend again, somehow having to now fit work, school and your sessions with Jumin into your schedule.<br/>
It <i>was</i> tiring, especially with the ridicule and the malicious attitudes you still encountered on campus, and you had to cancel some of the lessons to get assignments done, but the precious moments you did get to spend on Jumin’s piano were a powerful remedy.<br/>
Your mother still tried to contact you regularly, but by now it was a normal part of your day to see the missed calls on your phone. You became paranoid at some point, fearing she’d just show up on your doorstep eventually if you continued ignoring her calls, but when a second week passed with no trace of her, you dismissed those intrusive thoughts as well.<br/>
Gradually, you grew accustomed to your new routine, finding ways to maintain a healthy work-school-life balance while simultaneously settling your dad’s suspicions over why you suddenly spent way more time outside the house than before.<br/>
So, the days passed by quietly and nothing out of the ordinary happened…until the midterm exams’ results were released, and things changed.<br/>
That morning, you heard the buzz of voices even before you entered the corridor with the pin board all official exam results were usually posted up on. The murmurs swelled upon your arrival, and when you spotted your name high up in the list of results sorted according to grade, you realized why everyone was whispering about you.<br/>
You’d gotten full marks. And Shin’s entry was nowhere near the top of the list.<br/>
Now the snippets you caught of the hushed conversations around you made sense.<br/>
Such results meant that you had to have aced the exam without his help, or his grade wouldn’t be in the average range. After all, why would he help someone study if he himself wasn’t any better, or smarter, or academically superior in any way?<br/>
And if he <i>had</i> taken advantage of his teacher brother to get his hands on the answers for your sake, it made no sense for him not to have used them for himself as well. Especially since cheating on the test seemed more necessary for him than you, as his mediocre results had proven.<br/>
And that was how your reputation was washed clean and Shin became the number one topic on campus instead. Because, now that everything he’d been spreading about his ex had turned out to be blatant, fabricated lies, <i>he</i> had to be the one truly at fault.<br/>
By the time you switched classrooms for your second morning lecture, the wildest stories were already making the rounds about Shin. You were once again reminded of how shockingly fast the rumor mill worked in your faculty…<br/>
During that same lecture, your phone flashed with an incoming text message from Nami, one of the people you’d been close friends with before Shin had poisoned their minds against you.<br/>
As you unlocked your phone, you remembered that you’d noticed her watching you more than a couple of times the past week, stealing careful glances at you during classes and even at break time. Back then, it had seemed like she’d been trying to come up with an excuse or a reason to approach you. Apparently she’d finally found it, now that everyone’s negative attention was no longer focused on you.<br/>
<i><b>Can we talk? Lunch is on me.</b></i> She had added an emoji making hopeful puppy eyes at you through the screen.<br/>
You looked up from the message and caught her gaze from where she sat across the room. With an exaggerated sigh, that turned into an amused eye roll when she decided to mimic the emoji in real life, you gave her a stealthy thumbs up the moment the professor turned his back, and were rewarded with a beaming smile in return.<br/>
Wow, you hadn’t realized how much you had missed your friends until then. Part of you was hoping for a reconciliation, despite the ugly way they had bailed on you. You weren’t as averse to making up with them as you probably should have been - if anyone besides Nami even showed remorse - as long as they didn’t try to absolve themselves of the blame with lame excuses and rationalizations of their behavior.<br/>
You could accept a sincere apology, since real friends owned up to their mistakes. But you wouldn’t tolerate any empty words or euphemistic attempts to justify their errors. That would just mean you were giving them the opportunity to stab you in the back again when the next crisis came.<br/>
And you didn’t forgive repeat betrayals.<br/>
When lunch break finally rolled around, Nami was waiting for you at the door to the cafeteria. The two of you stood in line to buy lunch together, then found a table in a quieter part of the cafeteria that was rapidly filling up with what felt like the entire campus coming in to eat. Sitting across from each other after not having talked in over two weeks was a little awkward at first, until Nami reached across and placed a carton of dark chocolate milk on your tray, the kind she knew you liked because it was the only thing you ever got from the vending machines on campus.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”<br/>
You searched her face for signs of sincerity but found her hanging her head in shame.<br/>
Because it didn’t seem like she was done talking yet, you didn’t say anything and simply waited.<br/>
A moment later, Nami bit down on her trembling lower lip and took a deep breath. “It was dumb to believe his claims when I’ve been your friend for almost two years but only knew him in passing. He seemed so convincing at first…I shouldn’t have let him plant any doubts in my mind in the first place, but when I realized that he had to be lying, that you would never do something like that, I still acted like a coward and avoided you like the others. I guess I was scared that I’d get treated badly along with you…so I took the easy way out. I want to apologize for that. It was incredibly selfish of me to just turn my back on you when you were going through a hard time, just because I was afraid to get caught in the rain with you.”<br/>
It burst out of her in a rushed string of words she didn’t even seem to breathe in between. When she finally paused to fill her lungs, she glanced up at you with a dejected look on her face, her normally cheerful doe eyes dull without their usual spark.<br/>
“So, I just wanted to say that I’m incredibly sorry for that. I <i>know</i> it was wrong to act like that, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…the selfish part of me can’t help but hope that we can still be friends.”<br/>
Slowly, you reached for the chocolate milk she had brought you and watched her anxiously play with the sandwich in front of her as she waited for your response.<br/>
Nami So had been the first person you had befriended back when your first year at college had begun.<br/>
Although you’d never been one to be easily intimidated, you had had trouble making friends with anyone at first and spent most of orientation week by yourself, as you weren’t among the lucky ones who entered college together with their classmates from high school.<br/>
Then, two weeks into the term, Nami had one day showed up in your classes, late due to having to be hospitalized after an accident during the holidays.<br/>
Everyone had already formed friend groups by then, except for you, who was still coming to terms with going into a business major instead of the music you loved, and therefore having a hard time connecting with people who thought so differently than you did.<br/>
You’d been alone because you hadn’t felt like you belonged - until Nami had come along feeling as much as an outsider as you did.<br/>
The first time the two of you had talked, the thought that she seemed too soft and kind-hearted for the cut-throat world of business had crossed your mind even before she told you that she felt uncomfortable there because it didn’t agree with her personality.<br/>
From the first impression you’d gotten of her, the shrinking manner in which she had asked for your notes on the lectures she’d missed during her absence, you had expected her to be meek, almost timid, an introvert overwhelmed by new situations. But she had surprised you by warming up to you quickly, and you soon realized that, though shy at first, she was easily one of the most cordial and amicable people you had ever known.<br/>
Her dream was to open her own flower shop, as she had cheerfully told you over a coffee after class that day. And although she was going to business school mostly to make her parents happy knowing she’d chosen a solid path in life, she was optimistic that a business major might just help her achieve her dream later on.<br/>
Because, wasn’t a flower shop a small business in its own right?<br/>
You couldn’t help but admire her way of thinking that was so different from yours.<br/>
And at some point, you‘d come to realize that she was what you would never be, a better version of yourself. Someone who saw the positive sides in being selfless just to fulfill their parents’ wish.<br/>
Instead of the bitter determination that drove you, to hold onto your own happiness and dreams no matter what your father said.<br/>
“Oh, I forgot.” Nami pulled you out of your thoughts when she dove for her bag. “This is for you.” She pulled out a tiny, adorable bouquet consisting of four flowers tied together with colorful string.<br/>
A purple hyacinth, two chrysanthemum blossoms - one white and one yellow - and a stalkful of crimson and white basil flowers that you recognized more by scent than appearance.<br/>
You knew what they symbolized, because Nami had spent many a day talking your ear off with one of her favorite topics: flower language.<br/>
<i>A plea for forgiveness, friendship, sincerity</i>, and <i>hope</i>. In that order, that’s what the flowers she was offering you stood for.<br/>
You couldn’t keep the smile from forming on your lips. “You’re too much, Nami So.” You laughed when you saw her making puppy eyes at you from across the table once again. “Fine, fine, you’re forgiven, okay? Now stop resorting to illicit methods to win me over and dig in. Lunchtime is halfway over and we haven’t eaten yet.”<br/>
A weight seemed to fall from your heart when she finally smiled, relief and a tentative joy at your words bringing back the light behind her eyes. “I had to do everything in my power to make you see that I’m serious. An apology alone wouldn’t cut it after the sins I’ve committed.”<br/>
You snorted, amused. “But still, flowers? I know you’re obsessed with them, but I haven’t even received flowers from a boy before!”<br/>
“I know.” A mischievous twinkle lit up the chocolate-y depths of her eyes. “That means I’m your first. So you <i>have</i> to forgive me.” Then her laughing expression changed to a solemn one as she carefully, one-handedly unwrapped a sweet bun she’d bought for dessert. “But seriously. I’m extremely, very, <i>super</i> sorry and I swear I will never again break your trust.”<br/>
You rolled her eyes at Nami’s eternal habit of starting a meal with dessert before the actual food. She always did that…and yet you were inexplicably happy to see her engage in her silly peculiarities in front of you again.<br/>
“The next time you’re pushed off a cliff like that - <i>if</i> it happens again - you better believe I’m jumping after you. Pinky promise.” She held up the finger in question, only to shake her head and wave the tiny bouquet she still held onto like a flag, before finally handing it to you. “No, flower promise. I’m getting you clovers and violets next!”<br/>
Violets symbolized trustworthiness, as you recalled, and clovers stood for unbroken promise.<br/>
“No, no, no!” You wagged your finger to stop her, seeing how hyper excited she was getting once again. “No more flowers, please. People will get the wrong idea if you keep doing that.” You didn’t actually care what people would think, but she did. “Go give the flowers to some cute boy, why are you wasting them on me?”<br/>
But despite your words, you were really happy about them. She might be the first person you had ever gotten flowers from, but with how important they were to her, it was more than a big deal that she was giving some to you.<br/>
So you had no problem forgiving her after the heartfelt apology, and the obviously sincere regret she was feeling.<br/>
“Speaking of boys, I’m glad you and Shin aren’t together anymore.”<br/>
Her words had you glancing up from the food you had finally turned your attention to, after having safely stowed the flowers away in your bag. “Oh?”<br/>
Nami nodded firmly, using the back of the chopsticks to push her dark bangs from her eyes. “He’s a total douchebag. I mean, as if the drama and lies he made up about you weren’t indication enough already, I caught him making out with Sora in the hallways on the last day of midterms, and he was totally trying to put his hand down her shirt.”<br/>
That was barely a week after he had publicly broken up with you, and Sora Choi was another member of the friend group you had been part of before Shin’s betrayal.<br/>
“She wasn’t having it, but he didn’t stop until I kicked an empty soda can in their direction from behind the corner,” Nami continued. “<i>Then</i> he let go of her and hightailed it out of there like he was being chased by an angry bull. I asked Sora after, and she told me he was trying to force himself on her.” She shook her head in disgust. “She said he promised her a “good luck charm” for the exam if she played along. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. So yeah, if you ask me, you’re lucky he ended it when he did and didn’t try any of that with you.”<br/>
You decided not to correct her by mentioning that the reason for Shin’s petty breaking up with you had been your refusal to surrender yourself to precisely that kind of situation.<br/>
You were done wasting your time and thoughts on him, so from now on, you wouldn’t even grant him the honor of mention by spilling to Nami how much of an asshole he’d actually been.<br/>
As she cheerfully chattered on while you two finished your lunch, bringing you up to speed on everything you’d missed during your time in social solitary, you secretly wondered how you had survived without her since before midterms. Compared to those stifling weeks on campus where everyone pointed fingers at you and whispered behind your back, having her by your side and people’s attention directed somewhere else felt like pure sunshine.<br/>
As if a bright spring morning had finally broken after the seemingly unending darkness of frigid winter nights.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Your reconciliation with Nami and the changes on campus brought with them a drastic improvement of your mood.<br/>
That afternoon, when you once again showed up first for a lesson with Jumin and spent your time waiting for him on the piano, you found yourself playing a springy, animated tune full of happy notes that mimicked a child carefree skipping along beside its parents. Or maybe a cute baby goat gleefully bouncing over a lush, flower-covered meadow in the sunshine.<br/>
Thinking about the clumsy baby goat put an uncontrolled grin on your face as your fingers moved with the beat of tiny, imaginary hooves on verdant grass.<br/>
“Someone’s in a good mood,” were Jumin’s first words when he entered, following the fading final notes of your private performance.<br/>
He always did that, somehow showing up just at the end of one of the pieces you were playing. You were beginning to suspect that he was doing that on purpose on the days he wasn’t already home by the time you came.<br/>
Could it be that he intentionally delayed himself to let you arrive before him, just so he could listen to you play, then burst in right around the end?<br/>
No, that wasn’t possible. Jumin was a serious workaholic, as you’d found out in the weeks since you’d first met him. He wouldn’t waste previous time like that when he could be working or efficiently doing something else productive.<br/>
“What, are you sick of my grumpy side already?” You gave him a cheery wave, looking on with a smile as he crossed the living room to deposit his briefcase in his office as usual.<br/>
“I never got to see your grumpy side,” he remarked dryly. “Only hear it. And although I wouldn’t say I’m sick of it, I <i>am</i> glad you seem to be in high spirits. Do play on while I take a moment to wash up.”<br/>
As he disappeared for a quick shower and change of clothes, you happily went back to painting the air a rainbow of sound infused with your “high spirits”. In line with the routine the two of you had established, you got a few more minutes to play while he freshened up and switched his business persona of <i>C&amp;R Director Mr. Han</i> for the still slightly awkward but ever improving, casual <i>friend-Jumin</i> - a side he hadn’t known he possessed until you’d started coaxing it out of him during the course of your lessons.<br/>
And it had coincidentally become your muse for the new piece you’d been working on over the past weeks.<br/>
You just didn’t know where this unexpected inspiration would end up leading you…<br/>
His first words to you upon his return were expected.<br/>
“Have you decided whether to apply for the scholarship yet?”<br/>
With a roll of your eyes, you turned around on the cushioned piano stool to face Jumin, your legs crossed beneath you. “I have not. And when will you stop nagging me about that?”<br/>
Dressed in more comfortable clothes now, he stood in the doorway of his bedroom while rubbing his damp hair dry with a towel. “It’s not nagging, and not until you do it.”<br/>
Oh, Director Jumin Han was opening up to you, alright. The first week of your lessons with him, you’d had to painstakingly search his facial expressions for any indication of what was going on in his head. At some point you’d started reminding him that you couldn’t read his mind, like his assistant Jaehee Kang seemed to be able to. You had met her when she’d come over to pick up Elizabeth The 3rd once, since Jumin had told you she was the one who looked after the cat whenever he left on business trips.<br/>
The two of them barely exchanged words, and Jaehee still seemed to know exactly what Jumin wanted her to do. It was almost creepy how good she was at reading his cues, when you hadn’t even known they were cues in the first place.<br/>
So, you had managed to get Jumin to talk to you more, mostly to avoid awkward silences and make communication easier, for the sake of your lessons as well as the deepening friendship between you two. But now that he was comfortable enough speaking his mind around you, he was growing more and more bold, and you weren’t yet sure if you liked it or not.<br/>
For example, that question about the scholarship. After you’d told him about your father’s meddling in your application process, he had let you know that he thought you should try applying again, and used every chance he got to urge you to consider his suggestion.<br/>
After all, since you were well into your business major, he had no reason to suspect you were still hanging on to your old ambitions, and even if he found out about it somehow, he had no legal right to interfere again now that you were of full age.<br/>
His reasoning was sound, and the argument that, if you scored a scholarship now, you wouldn’t have to spend any more time on the wrong career path while saving up to eventually follow your dreams, was very tempting...but something still held you back.<br/>
You didn’t know if it was the dreadful idea of your application being rejected, your fear of failing the auditions, or the recurring nightmare of your father’s smug and scornful <i>‘I told you so’</i> after your own music career collapsed on top of your head like his had.<br/>
Whichever of those was responsible for the anxious reluctance filling you whenever Jumin brought it up, you didn’t know.<br/>
But barely a day had passed without him mentioning it at least once, even if it was just an ambiguous text message he sent you about it. Funny enough, those usually came across more like a threat than the casual hint they were meant to be, since he hadn’t yet figured out how to use the emojis appropriate for the mood while texting.<br/>
So you had even stopped giving excuses when he asked, constantly putting off having to face the reason behind your reservations. You kept telling yourself that it didn’t matter for now, that it wouldn’t matter as long as you weren’t going to take action, but what if ìt was your own cowardice that caused you to miss your chance at happiness eventually?<br/>
With a soft sigh, you pushed those thoughts out of your head and waved away the question in Jumin’s eyes. You became aware that he’d been waiting for you to speak, but you had no idea if he’d said anything else since your last exchange.<br/>
Since you also weren’t in the mood to discuss why you were so distracted, you simply got up from the music stool and beckoned him over to sit in your place. “Come on, we should get started. I have to be home by seven today, my Dad’s insisting on another movie night.”<br/>
He seemed to miss spending time with you. Ever since starting your lessons with Jumin, you hadn’t been hanging out at home as much as you used to.<br/>
Your dad believed you owed your busy afternoons to extracurricular activities on campus that turned into friendly get-togethers with your fellow students afterwards, as you’d explained to him. He had therefore requested that you make an early getaway from post-club meetups once a week, so he’d get a chance at some quality time with his daughter.<br/>
Who would have thought that his plans for the two of you would be feasting on takeout while watching Disney movies?<br/>
Like you were a child again, and he was trying to distract you from your mother’s absence with your favorite food and silly fairy tales.<br/>
You didn’t know why he wanted your time together to be like that. It might be that he just missed the old times, your habits together from before you became an adult too busy with work and school to do fun things with your father, or maybe he thought that you were upset because your mother was trying to come back into your life and this was the only way that he knew how to give you comfort.<br/>
Those nights always felt surreal to you. There was an eerie feeling of consistency in them, as if nothing had changed from back then. At both times, your mother wasn’t part of the picture, only you and your dad helping each other patch up the wounds she had left. Both times, you sensed your father’s despair for your future, and your own obstinacy to determine your own path.<br/>
Then, and now as well, it was always more of a negative sentiment that connected you and your father.<br/>
It was like the only difference were the years down the line, and it filled you with the terrible, foreboding dread that the two of you would end up forever trapped in this bitter struggle for control over <i>your</i> life.<br/>
Again, your thoughts were interrupted, the sound of a throat being cleared pulling you back to reality.<br/>
You blinked, and found Jumin’s face less than two inches away from yours, something akin to concern in those gray eyes that were so close you could have counted his lashes.<br/>
“You seem distracted. Are you not feeling well?” His low murmur had you jerking away from him like he’d jabbed you with a glowing poker.<br/>
Since you stood with the piano at your back, your frantic retreat had you nearly putting your butt down on the uncovered keyboard behind you. With a yelp that was drowned out by the flat c-sharp note your behind had accidentally struck, you jumped away from the instrument and the man it belonged to, feeling embarrassment scorch you to the tips of your ears.<br/>
“What are you coming so close for!? I’m alright!” Twisting on your heel, you fled into the kitchen, stuttering something about the brownies you’d brought with you today as an excuse for your escape.<br/>
He had <i>no</i> business invading your personal space with his perfect face like that, and your reaction to his proximity made no sense <i>at all</i>. Not when you were supposed to be just friends!<br/>
So why was it that he could get you so flustered with his mere presence, when yours seemed to have no effect on him in the slightest?<br/>
By the time you returned with a plastic container in hand, you had regained a measure of composure and your face was back to its normal color and temperature.<br/>
“Since you haven’t been making much progress in our lessons,” you began all businesslike, deliberately acting like the past minutes had never happened, “we’re trying a different approach today. I’m going to borrow our old pal Pavlov’s trusted teachings.”<br/>
Jumin’s expression held hints of curiosity as he watched you set the container down on top of the piano and place a couple of napkins next to it.<br/>
“You see these? Homemade brownies with chunks of dark chocolate and pieces of salted, caramelized walnuts. I used the kind of chocolate with a lot of cocoa in it. There’s <i>no way</i> these will be too sweet for your manly taste buds.”<br/>
When his eyes lit up with interest at your words, a pleased smirk spoiled your feigned professionalism.<br/>
“You’ll get a small piece now, just to give you a taste of how scrumptious they are.” As you spoke, you opened the container to hand him a square piece of chocolate-y decadence on a napkin. “Go on. Try it.”<br/>
Jumin had already sunk his teeth into the treat before you had finished your prompt.<br/>
Your eyebrows shot up from surprise.<br/>
Having eaten dinner with him several times since starting your friendship, you knew he usually took proper-sized, neat bites. As a child of high society, he’d been raised with perfect table manners, after all.<br/>
But this almost excited, <i>can’t-wait</i> kind of unrestrained anticipation he had displayed just now?<br/>
You had never before seen him do something that uncalculated and impulsive. It seemed so very unlike the Jumin he had let you see until today.<br/>
You hadn’t known that such a side of him even existed, but now that you did…you couldn’t help but be charmed.<br/>
Fascinated by this new, self-indulgent Jumin in front of you, you watched, enthralled, how he chewed the bite of brownie, his eyelids fluttering shut as he let the flavors unfold in his mouth.<br/>
“How peculiar. Caramel walnuts should have already been too sweet mixed into chocolate batter. But…the slight bitterness of the toasted nuts balances out the sugary caramel, and the unexpected notes of salt in combination with the tart chocolate offsets the overall sweetness.” Slowly, with deliberate care, he lifted the brownie for another blind bite.<br/>
The tiniest frown creased the space between his brows. “It’s <i>superb</i>. A perfect composition of flavor.” At odds with his words, his voice held puzzlement rather than satisfaction.<br/>
Then, finally, his eyelids lifted.<br/>
“I’ve never had a pastry with such a peculiar texture before. It’s almost like undercooked cake…but velvety. And it doesn’t taste raw at all.” His expression showed a kind of helpless confusion, like he didn’t know how to deal with this discovery.<br/>
“That’s because it isn’t.” You popped a piece of brownie into your own mouth, a sound of pure delight escaping you at the gustatory explosion. Licking your lips just in case any chocolate clung to them, you wiped your fingers with a napkin and gave him a proud smile. “The correct ratio of sugar, flour and egg accounts for the texture. It’s fully cooked, trust me. This chewy, gooey mouthfeel is the product of chemical reactions, and fully intentional.”<br/>
Judging by his wide eyes, this was the first time he had to have heard about the mechanisms of baking. “How astounding.”<br/>
“I know, right?. And I’m very glad the stimulus seems to be effective.” Your smugness intensified as you watched him almost reverently finish off the last bit of brownie in his hand.<br/>
“Which brings us back to our buddy Pavlov. Now that you know how great these are, you sure want more?”<br/>
You almost laughed when his gaze wandered to the container with the remaining brownies.<br/>
An enthusiastic nod followed. “I do.”<br/>
“Huh…” The smudge of chocolate decorating the corner of his mouth distracted you momentarily.<br/>
Jumin cocked his head in a silent question upon seeing you zone out again. Vic 2.0 was back.<br/>
But you couldn’t focus. That damn brownie stain had drawn your attention to his lips, and you found yourself unable to look away.<br/>
The bottom one was a little fuller, but his upper lip curved in a delicate, graceful arch that could have been carved by a master sculptor’s hand. His mouth looked incredibly soft, which was so at odds with the ever stony-faced, blue-blooded man it belonged to…<br/>
“...Y/N?” Gray eyes widened slightly, and you realized that you were doing what he had to you just a while ago. Invading his personal space with your face. “What are…”<br/>
<i>“Ugh!”</i> With an undefined sound that was a hybrid of surprise, embarrassment, and exasperation - because his moving mouth had almost lured you into another bout of admiring it again - you stepped closer, grasped his jaw to hold him in place, and almost aggressively started scrubbing at that wretched chocolate stain with the napkin you were still holding.<br/>
You were so focused on not leaving a trace of it behind that you didn’t notice him going motionless under your hands.<br/>
When his pale face was back to its usual immaculacy, you marched all the way to the trashcan in the kitchen to get rid of the soiled napkin.<br/>
And peeked out into the living room from behind the kitchen door, your heart beating too fast, a frantic bird that was trapped behind your ribs trying to fly free.<br/>
Jumin was frozen in place, like the statue you’d likened him to earlier. Then, as if waking from a slumber, he blinked slowly, and his hand rose to touch the corner of his mouth that had been the target of your surprise attack.<br/>
And slipped to where your hand had cupped his face to keep him from moving.<br/>
The bird in your chest flapped its wings harder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm taking a little break from writing and updating after this chapter, since I still have a few papers to write before the new semester starts. So, unfortunately there won't be a chapter next week, but I'll probably be back the week after.</p>
<p>Have fun reading and please feel free to share my fic with your friends who stan MysMes and our Juju, if you like it so far ~~<br/>__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>What the hell is wrong with you!?</i><br/>
Out of an inexplicable impulse, you shook your head, as if that could get rid of the heat you could still feel burning your face.<br/>
To buy yourself a little more time in order to calm down, you washed your hands at the sink with ice-cold water, then took a few deep breaths to get yourself back under control. Not leaving yourself any time to chicken out, you turned and walked straight back out.<br/>
This time, it was harder to act like nothing had happened. You were acutely aware of his gaze on you when you leaned against the piano, a good foot of space between you and the stool he sat on.<br/>
“Anyways.” You cleared your throat, the renewed air of awkwardness you hadn’t felt in two weeks leaving you uneasy. <i>Business as usual</i>, you told yourself. <i>Just continue with the lesson…</i><br/>
Although he was still watching you with a more intense focus than before, Jumin gave a mere nod when you resumed speaking.<br/>
“Just like Pavlov, I’m introducing this irresistible stimulus as a reward to boost your motivation. Because, everytime you make progress in our lessons, you don’t just get brownie points, but actual brownies. Then, and <i>only</i> then.” To underscore the meaning of your words, and to jolt the past minutes out of your system, you slammed the lid back onto the brownie container and pushed it behind your back and out of Jumin’s sight.<br/>
“This way you will start to associate them with positive achievements during the sessions and hopefully try your hardest to do better so you can have more. Feel free to bark for effect. Or...meow,” you added when you spotted Elizabeth The 3rd giving you the stinky eye from where she lounged on the ottoman closest to her human servant. A little dry humor couldn’t hurt. Especially with the atmosphere all messed up like that.<br/>
“These are <i>rare</i> goods, got it? I created this recipe myself, so I’m the only source for these.” You had to emphasize it, just to make sure he knew what was at stake. “If you hope to ever eat them again, or try other treats specifically tailored to your tastes by yours truly, you better aim for <i>success</i>.”<br/>
“That’s...a cruel strategy.” Judging by the wry smile Jumin gave you, the awkwardness seemed to be dissipating.<br/>
Almost back to normal. <i>Thank goodness.</i><br/>
“But I will work hard to earn your approval and make sure to collect on the rewards you owe me.”<br/>
You expressed your approval over his answer with a satisfied nod. “Now that that’s settled… Since your blind playing is almost where I want it to be, I’ll let you know that we’re starting with something more difficult soon. And for that…I need you to conjure up the most prominent memories connected to the emotions we’ll be dealing with.”<br/>
Back to your old habit, you paced along the piano’s side as you carefully chose your words.<br/>
“I’m going to run you through a month of ‘recall training’, where in the first two weeks, we focus on positive emotions, and in the remaining two, we go through negative ones. The concept is simple: you tell me about your personal experiences that are linked to a certain emotion, and at the same time try to infuse your performance with the feelings that remembering evokes inside you.”<br/>
His skeptical expression told you that your idea might need further elaborating.<br/>
“Hm…wait. I’ll give you an example. Let’s say I’m playing a cheerful piece - like the one I was doing earlier when you arrived. I was obviously thinking happy thoughts to channel the right emotions. Do you know what I was thinking of?”<br/>
The slightest tilt of his head betrayed his curiosity. “Tell me.”<br/>
You wondered what his reaction would be. Would he think it silly?<br/>
“Baby goats, prancing and frolicking around in between wildflowers.”<br/>
He took a moment to think about it. “I suppose it fits. Baby goats are quite endearing, after all.” But his ambiguous glance told you there was more he wasn’t saying.<br/>
“What is it? You think that it’s silly, don’t you?” You scrunched up your nose in a sheepish grimace.<br/>
“No, that’s not it, I’m just…surprised.” As if grappling for words, he rubbed two fingers over his chin. “You said we’d be working from memory, but this doesn’t seem to be a very personal experience. Don’t you have your own instances of happiness to draw inspiration from?”<br/>
That made you pause. “I…do?” What should have been a confident statement sounded more like you were asking confirmation of yourself.<br/>
But now that he’d said it…had you ever recalled something especially precious to you when playing cheery melodies?<br/>
“Ah! Playing the piano by itself makes me so happy that I don’t need to think of anything else. Only for negative things…”<br/>
The knowing look in his eyes told you that it didn’t just sound like an excuse to your own ears.<br/>
Yet he didn’t comment, and turned back to the instrument instead. “Very well. I shall attempt to “think happy thoughts, then.”<br/>
But his hands didn’t move, his fingers remaining still on the keys.<br/>
So you stepped in to assist. “Think about when you got Eli here.” You lifted the white-haired cat when she attempted to streak past you, facing her towards Jumin, not just because you wanted him to look at her, but because she was probably glaring at you for the undignified position you’d put her in. Oh, and the name calling.<br/>
Jumin gave you a frown, which was the closest thing to a scowl you’d ever seen him produce. “Her name is Elizabeth The 3rd.”<br/>
“I know. But who has the lung capacity to say that every time she’s mentioned?” With a roll of your eyes, you carried the feline over until the two of you stood in his line of sight.<br/>
Maybe he’d need some visual prompting before getting him to fully rely on his recollection…<br/>
“Anyways. Keep your eyes on her and try playing something. Don’t try to be perfect, just pour what you’re feeling into your hands.”<br/>
Music filled the air when he complied, his eyes fixed on his pet in your arms as if she hypnotized him. Instead of his usual blank expression, or his signature frown of concentration you’d seen a lot during your lessons together, his face was relaxed...and a tiny smile had the corners of his mouth pointing upwards.<br/>
Already, there was more heart to the melody than you’d heard him exhibit in all the times he’d played in front of you before.<br/>
As things seemed to be going in the right direction, you got the idea to up the intensity from visual to tactile inspiration, and stepped closer to him with Elizabeth The 3rd in your arms.<br/>
The change was immediate. His smile widened into a full-fledged one, like a flower unfurling its petals at the first hint of spring warmth, his eyes twinkling with a tender kind of fondness that had your heart in your throat. When the cat stretched forward to nuzzle her pink nose against his face in greeting, he did it back, rubbing his cheek over her furry head as if he was trying to pet her despite his occupied hands.<br/>
The tune faltered a little, but his emotions were clearly bleeding into his performance. You could feel his affection for the cat in the notes that gently swayed in the air around you, moved by an invisible breeze that came straight from the heart.<br/>
Hearing the harmonies of his soul blossom out like that stirred something inside you. Awe-struck at the potential he’d been hiding - hell, he sounded like a completely different person compared to before, and it was beautiful -, you didn’t know what mesmerized you more. The music he had managed to breathe some life into at last, or the way his face was transformed from all the emotions he was finally allowing to the surface.<br/>
The realization that he had so much <i>feeling</i> bottled up inside him without knowing how to let it out…it staggered you. Deep inside, your heart hurt for this man who had to be holding so much of himself back, and a part of you vowed to help him unfold all those hidden layers of himself so he wouldn’t have to live half a life anymore.<br/>
When the music died off, you coughed softly to mask how overwhelmed your own thoughts had left you. Then, more to escape his inquisitive gaze than to keep busy, you dropped a squirmy Elizabeth The 3rd into his lap and turned to the plastic container.<br/>
“You’ve done very well, so…try to think back to this moment in the next lessons. And, uh…”<br/>
You faced him again, mustering up your best attempt at a smile despite the weight of your compassion still constricting your ribcage.<br/>
“...keep up the good work!” A square brownie on a fresh napkin was the prize for his first achievement.<br/>
When he accepted the reward, the kitty now happily curled up on his thighs, he had an almost dreamy look in his eyes.<br/>
It made you chuckle, the heaviness around your chest easing a little.<br/>
And then break into full-blown laughter at the flat <i>‘meow’</i> he gave right before taking the first bite with wickedly twinkling eyes.</p>
<p>
  <i>T/N: please follow this link to experience Jumin’s meow for yourself:<br/>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHYWLFQMoGc<br/>
It's originally part of the game’s 2017 April Fool's Special DLC content.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Movie night with your dad brought back memories from your childhood that the time hadn’t managed to erode.<br/>
The traumatic weeks directly after your mother’s departure from your lives had been spent with you and your dad watching all kinds of animated movies together. Although it couldn’t have been much fun for a grownup, the two of you had binged your way through all of the classics: from most of the Disney movies out at the time, to every single old <i>Barbie</i> film, which you’d even known the songs for, once.<br/>
As you let the movie you’d chosen load, you poured two cups of soda to go with the triple order of fried chicken your dad was paying the delivery boy at the door for.<br/>
You’d been craving the grease of fried food lately, so you couldn’t wait to dig into your favorite combination of juicy meat, crispy batter and spicy marinade, as well as an order of plain fried chicken to neutralize the taste buds, and the garlic soy variety that was your dad’s standard choice when chicken was on the menu.<br/>
Since it seemed that you weren’t the only one starving, however, several pieces of chicken were already gone before you could start the movie.<br/>
Even Victor had managed to snag a piece and run off with it somewhere so you wouldn’t  be able to confiscate it…<br/>
Rolling your eyes at his usual antics, you let him have it since you’d gone with the boneless kind this time, and nudged your dad aside so you could plate up the food to go with the movie before he could decimate it all.<br/>
When you finally settled down on the sofa with your drinks and the plates of fried chicken in front of you, you were almost excited for the movie you’d never gotten to see a second time after first watching it years ago.<br/>
A Disney remake of one of your favorite fairy tales.<br/>
There was just something about Rapunzel’s golden cage of a tower and her desire to break out of it in order to experience the outside world that resonated with you.<br/>
<i>Jeez.</i> You wondered why…maybe it was because you and her were both <i>tangled</i> up in a similar mess - caught between personal desire and perceived reason.<br/>
Giggling quietly at the lame pun you’d come up with that somehow sounded incredibly funny in your head, you ignored the sideways glance your dad threw you and shushed him when the opening credits started playing on screen.<br/>
Although it had been nearly seven years, you had a vague recollection of what happened in the movie and recalled it to be one of your favorites out of all the ones you’d watched back then.<br/>
It made you ponder whether you would still like it then, or if you had changed too much to appreciate your tastes from before.<br/>
You noticed the first difference in perception when you reached for a piece of chicken.<br/>
As you watched Rapunzel give her rendition of Disney’s typical character introduction songs, you found yourself reaching for a pen and a napkin in place of paper to scribble down the notes of the melody, but in a different key than what was in the movie.<br/>
You felt like your version would better fit the theme of her hopeful yearning for freedom and a change of scenery, and emphasize the emotions of the scene rather than just sound fun and springy to go with her bubbly personality.<br/>
As the movie progressed, you felt compelled to note down your own revised versions for several of the songs you heard, changing the keys and chord progressions to acknowledge the underlying emotions instead of the carefree, child-safe way the movie presented them more for dancing and singing along.<br/>
It was almost like you were unable to watch it without a part of yourself focusing on the authenticity of the music. Your younger self wouldn’t have even cared to ‘correct’ or redo any melodies. The story would have had you too enthralled to even notice how the music didn’t fit the meaning behind the words…<br/>
The third time your dad looked over to find you abusing the napkin as a notepad during a musical scene, he cleared his throat. “So, Y/N. How's the club been going? Do you like it so far?”<br/>
You barely paused to answer, too distracted getting the notes down before the song ended. “Huh? Club…?”<br/>
You didn’t see your dad’s eyebrows shoot up at your words. “That business club or whatever you told me it’s called. The new one you’ve been attending on campus lately?”<br/>
“Oh, right, <i>that</i> club.” You realized you’d almost tripped up and took a sip of your soda to mask the spike of panic his sudden question had caused inside you. “It’s, uh, nice. A lot of fun. Nami’s loving it, too.” You hoped your chuckle didn’t sound as nervous to him as it felt to you as you lied through teeth. “Today the Director of a big export company was there as a guest. We got to ask him all kinds of questions…”<br/>
At least there was some truth to that. You had met Jumin today, who was the director of C&amp;R, and you’d asked him a lot of questions…<br/>
“That sounds fun.” His nod of approval made your anxiousness ease a little. “I’m glad you’re using your free time for meaningful things that will help you progress in life…”<br/>
As usual, he had to say too much. You didn’t know if he did it on purpose or if it was just a subconscious habit of his, to always make off-hand remarks about how your academic choices and leisure activities - or what you had him believe about the latter - were so great for your future, and insinuating that anything else would be an atrocious waste of time.<br/>
As if you weren’t already aware with every breathing second that you were expected to put stability over happiness in this illusion of a choice he’d given you, and to not even feel wronged about how he steered you in a different direction than your heart wanted you to go.<br/>
Forcing yourself to remain calm despite your internal vexation, you bit into another piece of chicken, letting the sweet-hot marinade placate your heated temper with a different kind of fire.<br/>
You didn’t know how the restaurant did it, but for some reason the marinated fried chicken always managed to maintain its crispiness throughout the delivery process. Not soggy in the slightest, the fried batter around the chicken was coated in a thick, sweet yet immensely spicy sauce with almost fruity hints complementing the nuttiness of the roasted sesame seeds clinging to the sticky marinade.<br/>
You couldn’t be tempted to eat much from the plain kind, but the garlic soy chicken was serious competition. Your taste buds rejoiced at the intense flavor explosion brought about by the sesame oil and soy sauce in the mellow buttermilk batter. Add to that the fried slices of garlic, essentially garlic chips, you were supposed to eat with every bite, and the addictive composition was complete.<br/>
Between spicy-sweet and garlic-savory, it was impossible to stop reaching for the bite-sized pieces of happiness.<br/>
As you munched your way through what felt like a whole bucket of chicken, you put aside the makeshift sheet music napkins and focused your attention on the movie.<br/>
During the tavern scene with the thugs putting on a musical act about their dream careers, the hook-handed one with the ambitions to become a concert pianist despite his handicap had you snorting with an amused kind of sarcasm. “Funny how a <i>whole missing hand</i> isn’t enough to keep that one from following his dreams…” A pointed look at your dad accompanied your comment, but he didn’t show any reaction.<br/>
With a sigh, you told yourself to stop the pettiness and reached for your empty glass. “Want a refill?” At his nod, you grabbed his glass as well and went to get new drinks for the two of you.<br/>
Just as you were about to return, your dad called out to you. “Can you throw a pack of popcorn in the microwave?”<br/>
You did, although you were wondering where he was planning to fit all that along with the chicken that hadn’t been eaten yet.<br/>
“And get me some ice cream from the fridge, please.”<br/>
Now you were starting to get suspicious.<br/>
When you walked back with two filled glasses balanced on top of the tub of ice cream, he gave you a saccharine smile.  “Thanks. Spoon?”<br/>
You nodded to where you had wedged the utensil safely among your cargo.<br/>
As you sat down, ignoring the way he seemed to glance over at you a couple of times, you tried to get your attention back to the screen, where Rapunzel and her thief were trying not to drown in a flooded cave.<br/>
The question, when it came, was so quiet and languorous that the danger of the situation only reached you when the words registered in your mind.<br/>
“You haven’t actually given up on music, have you?”<br/>
Movie forgotten, you looked over at your dad, found him squinting at you in open suspicion.<br/>
He didn’t even give you a chance to deny it. When he raised his hand, you saw that he held up your music-covered napkins with two fingers. “Answer the question.”<br/>
Your heart sank. With a mute shake of your head, you forced yourself to stay in your seat when he crumpled up the ink-covered layers of tissue in his hand like a used handkerchief. Although every fiber of your being was screaming with the painful need to snatch them from his grip, you didn’t. Because the dread filling you upon seeing his temper slowly unravel in front of your eyes told you that fighting back now would only make things worse.<br/>
He crudely tossed the crinkled napkins onto the coffee table separating you. “How long have you been lying to me? And what else about?”<br/>
He fixed you with a hard gaze, before giving you an exaggerated, distorted smile that had your defenses rising. “Let me guess, that damn club was a lie, too?” A bitter, grating chuckle, its jagged edges sawing at your frayed nerves like a serrated knife. “Are you even taking business classes anymore, or have you been wasting your time - and my money - with this nonsense again?”<br/>
If you wanted to hold on to the slightest hope of staving off disaster, you couldn’t lose your own composure. You couldn’t let this end in a mindless shouting battle that would destroy the truce between the two of you, would undo all the progress you’d made in your efforts to work towards your dreams in the shadows of your father’s ignorance.<br/>
Now that he’d caught wind of your doings, he wouldn’t let off, like a hound mercilessly running down its prey until it was cornered with nowhere to go.<br/>
You didn’t intend to fight back before being taken down. Your plan was rather to throw him off your trail before he could drive you into a dead end in the first place.<br/>
So you would give him something, just a little scrap to take the edge off his bloodthirst and divert his suspicions for a little while longer.<br/>
But you had to word this very carefully, to not end up reinforcing his leeriness instead.<br/>
Forcing your lungs to expand on a breath although it felt like your throat was too tight to let any air through, you faced the beast you were starting to get sick of always running from.<br/>
“A friend I made through work has a piano at home. I use it for fun sometimes when we hang out there…”<br/>
Sinking back down onto the sofa, you started collecting the leftover food on a single plate to not waste any fridge space. And to keep from looking at him and losing the hair-thin thread of control holding you together. “You can ask Nami about the club if you don’t believe me.”<br/>
You made a mental note to fill her in later, in case you had to ask her to cover for you. “And about this…”<br/>
With shaking hands, you shoved the crumpled napkins with your music on them into the trash can beneath the coffee table. “I can’t help it. It’s a habit I can’t turn off. You’ve spent even longer than me learning music and writing your own every chance you got. Could you just stop because someone else told you to? When I hear a melody I like, my automatic reaction is to want to make my own version of it.”<br/>
When you finally looked up, you were relieved at the pensive expression that had wiped the anger off his face.<br/>
“Since I know what you mean, I guess that can’t be helped…” A reluctant grumble under his breath. Then he squared his shoulders, and the strictness returned to his eyes. “As long as you understand that I won’t tolerate anything beyond this.”<br/>
Your own anger flared at the rebuke, going head to head with reason in an inner battle to stop yourself from going off on him. <i>Bear with it just a little longer</i>, you told yourself, drawing in another breath to help you ride the raging waves of your ire. <i>We’re almost there. The crisis is almost averted…</i><br/>
“And your new friend…” His lips pressed into a pale, hard line, betraying his disapproval of the situation before he expressed it with words. “…try not to meet her at home as much. There’s plenty of other places you can go.”<br/>
At his words, the uproarious sea that was your temper calmed a little.<br/>
<i>Huh.</i> That was way better than what you’d thought he would say. You had expected him to try to micromanage your life for you again, tell you what you can and can’t do to keep your priorities where he wanted them to be. But this, it was almost <i>good</i>, considering the way he’d usually overstep his boundaries like he had every right to…<br/>
“On second thought…I think I’d like it better if you just stopped seeing her entirely.” He set off towards the kitchen upon hearing the microwave beep, oblivious to how his words made your every muscle lock. “You have other friends, and can always make new ones, you don’t have to get hung up on this one person…”<br/>
The fragile threads of your sanity snapped, waves of boiling fury capsizing the swaying boat that was your mind.<br/>
“And what if I don’t want to?”<br/>
Your father stopped where he stood, turning only his head to throw you a glance overflowing with an astonished kind of surprise at your back talk.<br/>
But you weren’t done yet. Years of holding back what you wanted to say had left you with too many words to contain within yourself any longer, and too little patience to keep enduring the way he continued to crush everything that meant something to you.<br/>
A red haze descended over your vision when your wrath finally fled your reins and pushed reason off a cliff into the foaming, crashing breakers below.<br/>
Then, deathly calm reigned.<br/>
The decision to <i>make it stop</i> solidified in your heart, and you deliberately gathered up all that’s been festering inside you to fling it at him with everything you had.<br/>
“First, it was my hobby. Then, my studies, my entire career. Now you want me to ditch my friends because they don’t fit into the plans you have in mind for my future? And you expect me to play along? <i>Are you out of your damn mind!?</i>”<br/>
For a few nerve-wracking seconds, he stared at you with muted shock, jaw gone slack at hearing words he’d never expect from you.<br/>
The next moment, his expression hardened and he stalked back to where you stood, popcorn forgotten. “You maybe should have made better choices in life, then, if you didn’t want me setting yours straight.”<br/>
You knew that tone, the disturbingly quiet one preluding the explosive anger that would end up ripping your heart to shreds once more.<br/>
Gritting your teeth, you braced yourself for what was to come, making a fierce vow to yourself not to back down even as his eyes sparked with his own rising temper.<br/>
If you didn’t break through the walls he had bricked your life up with this time, you would never find another way out.<br/>
“Choices?” You sneered, letting him hear and feel the biting sarcasm behind your words. “How funny that you’d say that. You mean the choices you never allowed me to make, when you just decided <i>by yourself</i> how everything in <i>my</i> life should be? Those choices?”<br/>
“Never mind those!” His bellow made you wince a little at the abrupt increase of volume. "You don't need a choice when all it would do is ruin your life! As your father, I know what's best for you, and if you weren't so determined to mess up your own damn life, you'd realize that and stop fighting my efforts to save you from the bleak future awaiting you."<br/>
Although the unfamiliar harshness of his words stung like salt in an open wound, you pushed back. “I really wish you <i>had</i> given me a choice, because as things are now, someone is going to end up getting hurt by your unreasonable, blind paranoia.”<br/>
Trembling with rage, you pushed to your feet and stomped towards him like an angry bull. “Just because your career ended from bad luck, doesn’t mean that the same is going to happen to me! This isn’t some kind of family curse that will put every single one of us to ruin!”<br/>
If you didn’t see this through today, you might never find the courage to oppose him again.<br/>
“<i>Is it so wrong</i> to want to spend the rest of my life doing something I love instead of suffering for stability? I don't care about money or fame, I just want to have fun doing what I love, and share it with the world!"<br/>
The derisive laughter that was his reaction to your words felt like you were being stabbed through the chest with a burning poker.<br/>
“Doing what you love isn’t going to pay the bills and keep you from drowning in poverty. Do you think life is a fucking game?” He chuckled some more, as if you’d said something truly hilarious that made him unable to contain his amusement. “You’ll be better off sticking to the business route, because you’ll never run out of job opportunities with a knowledge of numbers and stocks. Not like the losing game of surviving in the world of music.”<br/>
"I'm not made for numbers and stocks, and freaking financial reports!” Driven by your desperate indignation, you went toe to toe with him as you cried out words coming from the very depths of your soul. “I'm made for progressions and scales and sheet music, and the haunting melodies you make by pouring your heart out onto paper and turning it into sound that makes someone’s soul dance when they hear it!"<br/>
His response was more of that acrid laughter that burned your senses like acid. “You seem mighty confident that people will want to hear you make music, but the way I see it, you don’t stand a fucking chance with your childish, immature skills.”<br/>
The vicious spite with which he spat those words staggered you, eliciting a choked sound from your throat that was a nameless combination of breathless shock and hurt. “How can you even <i>say</i> that? <i>You</i> taught me everything I know! Do you have no faith in your abilities as a teacher!?”<br/>
”Do you have any idea how many great pianists are out there? Knowing how to play an instrument isn’t everything there is to being a musician. If it didn’t work out for me, you’re <i>delusional</i> if you think it will for you.”<br/>
Taken aback by the way he was so quick to disparage your musical skill, and with such unexpected malice at that, you ended up just staring at him in wounded confusion, your mind blank.<br/>
But he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he was beyond caring about your feelings at this point.<br/>
When he spoke next, the dangerous glint in his eyes was an alarming sight, an ominous precursor to the hurtful words that followed.<br/>
“If you’re so determined to go against my words and screw up your future because of a silly ambition you can’t let go of, you’ll have to do it without me in your life. I’m not going to stick around and watch it all go down in flames a second time.” He paused, out of breath from the way he’d been yelling. “So, I suggest you think hard about what’s more important to you, your old man, or your precious <i>pipe dream</i>.”<br/>
He turned on his heel and left, the bang of the kitchen door slamming shut behind him reverberating like a gunshot in the sudden silence.<br/>
For a moment, you couldn’t breathe as the glowing poker scorched its way deeper into your chest.<br/>
You’d known how vehemently he was against your career of choice, but you had never experienced him talk to you with so much venom before.<br/>
Had he been hiding that depth of acrimony and contempt all this time, or had you unwittingly pushed him towards that bad place with your defiant outbreak today?<br/>
As suddenly as it had boiled over, your anger dissipated in a cloud of weariness that left you exhausted and deeply unsettled by the way the events had unfolded.<br/>
Leaving the mess in the living room untouched and the movie unfinished, you dragged yourself to your room and into bed, where Victor had cowardly taken refuge as soon as your voices had risen with the erupting argument.<br/>
When the bitter tears came, they followed you into your dreams, where you fought another losing battle. In the middle of violent, stormy seas, heavy rain pelted your skin, leaving bloody gashes. As if it were the sharp teeth of a hound assaulting you instead of mere water drops.<br/>
And piece by piece, your paltry, battered boat crumbled away beneath you.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'MSOSORRY PLEASEFORGIVEME I DIDN'T MEAN TO NOT POST IN THREE WEEKS, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TWO WEEKS OFF FOR MY PAPERS BUT THEN I GOT WRITER'S BLOCK AND HAD TROUBLE WRITING AFTER TWO WEEKS OF DOING JUST FORMAL PAPER WRITING AND UGHHH I'M SO SORRY PLS DON'T HATE ME I'M STILL CONTINUING THIS I PROMISE!!!! &gt;o&lt;<br/>Have this extra long chapter with a little drama, a lot of Juju, and a bit of a cliffhanger, AND PLEASE LOOK FORWARD TO NEXT WEEK'S CHAPTER!</p>
<p>AUTHOR'S NOTES - there are two author's notes I included in this chapter for clarification of something, and the link to a piece Jumin plays. Both are marked in the paragraphs they show up in; you can find the full author's note at the end of the each scene.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When morning came and you found yourself unable to get out of bed and go about your day like normal, for the first time in a long time, you made the decision to skip class.<br/>
Not even the terrible rumors and stares of the past weeks had made you do that, but the mask you’d kept up so bravely throughout that entire ordeal, to keep the world from seeing how hurt and miserable you actually were behind that facade of indifference you’d thought nothing could crack…it had been shattered by the one person who held the power to wound you with a mere couple of sentences.<br/>
As you nibbled on a cracker from the hidden stash you kept in your room for such emergencies, where your room was the only safe place in this house you shared with him, you even contemplated calling in sick for work.<br/>
Your face was a swollen mess, your eyes red-rimmed and sore from crying yourself to sleep, as using your phone screen as a makeshift mirror had proven. If you managed to conceal the physical signs of your emotional outbreak with makeup, Nami would definitely pick up on your mood and know that something was wrong. Even if she didn’t prod or ask you about it, she’d still try her absolute best to cheer you up with her silly antics, but you didn’t have the heart to act like it worked, nor did you want to crush her spirits by letting her know that it didn’t.<br/>
So, it made sense to skip going to class, but who would bother you at work? You were mostly alone during your shifts, save for the cat, so maybe it was a good thing to just be alone somewhere other than home while keeping distracted with carrying out your duties.<br/>
And about your lesson with Jumin…as desperate as you were to feel a keyboard under your hands and have the caress of music soothe your bruised heart, <i>that</i> wasn’t even what kept you from cancelling.<br/>
What made you hesitate the most, for some reason, was the absurd idea that Jumin’s calm and steadfast presence would help you reassemble the million jagged pieces of your broken mask back into a whole.<br/>
You had no clue what to do with that thought your brain had suddenly decided to put out there.<br/>
With a sigh, you washed down another cracker with a sip of water. When you had to wrestle the bottle cap from a hyperactive Victor, who was being a menace after several unsuccessful attempts to steal a piece of the salted snack from you when trying to will you into giving him some with his big, round, hopeful eyes didn’t work, the squirming furball knocked your phone off the bed while kicking his legs. With an annoyed groan, you tossed him a tiny piece and snatched the cap back while he was distracted, securely putting the now closed bottle down before picking up your abused phone.<br/>
Only to almost drop it again when you realized the screen was flashing with an incoming call from <i>Work</i> that you couldn’t hear because you’d had your phone on Silent ever since your mother started trying to contact you. You hurried to answer, torn between being mad at Vic for making a fuss and feeling grateful that his action of throwing down your phone had made you notice the call.<br/>
It turned out that one of your colleagues had unexpectedly called in sick today and you were being asked to come in as a replacement as soon as you could. You were somewhat relieved to have another reason that kept you from calling off your shift for the day. After all, if you showed up for your lessons after someone else had come in to do your work for you, Jumin would definitely know something was up.<br/>
So you would go take care of that before doing your own job at Jumin’s.<br/>
But first, you’d disable your phone’s Silent mode so you wouldn’t miss any more important phone calls.</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>You had barely arrived at the place of your colleague’s job and you were already regretting that decision.<br/>
To kill time on the bus, you had spent the way to the client’s home in the suburbs of the city trying out a new musical game on your phone, something Nami had been pushing you to try. It was like a piano simulator where you had to “press” the right keys at the right time to continue a tune that played in the background. But although there were only four possible key fields to play, the melody consisted of more than just four notes, so it irritated you that the game wasn’t just inaccurate, but overly simplified and grossly limiting for someone who actually knew how to play the piano.<br/>
And you kept messing up because your fingers repeatedly tried to go for the actual notes of a melody you knew, instead of just the tiles alternatively flashing across the screen. But that wasn’t the reason you gave up without making it through a single song.<br/>
Aside from the underwhelming mechanics of the game, your ringtone kept interrupting, blaring at you through the earphones you were wearing to play and startling you out of your state of attempted concentration.<br/>
When you ended up deleting the game and putting your phone away to work on one of your ongoing pieces instead, the unceasing vibrations disturbed your focus and had you unable to fill more than half a page in your music book.<br/>
By the time you were done standing in for your colleague and on your way to Jumin’s penthouse, you hadn’t had the space of mind to brood over yesterday’s fight with your dad even once, but you were developing a pounding headache from your efforts of trying to ignore your phone when it rang and to avoid looking at it when it didn’t.<br/>
This went on until you finally lost your patience while changing the bed sheets in Jumin’s guestroom.<br/>
Cursing up a blue streak when you kept making unnecessary mistakes and messing up your work from lack of focus, you stomped to where your phone was vibrating away on the nightstand and answered without checking who it was.<br/>
Because, who else would call you a minimum of three times in the same hour but the one person who has been stubbornly trying to reach you for weeks now?<br/>
"Will you stop calling already?” You snapped, not even bothering to sound anything but pissed off. “Just take the hint and give up when you see your calls never going through!"<br/>
<i>"Oh? Talking to a stubborn lover, perhaps? You sure moved on fast from your last relationship…"</i><br/>
At the unexpected but familiar jeer, you pulled your phone from your ear to check the caller ID on screen, although you’d recognized the voice of who had just decided to ruin your week on top of everything that was already going on.<br/>
Mr. Dickhead, formerly known as Shin Yeong, before you had turned him into the joke that he was by changing his name in your contact list the day he’d shown his true colors. <i>(see Author's Note 1)</i><br/>
<i>Great.</i> Your mood turned even more sour than before.<br/>
"None of your business. What the hell do <i>you</i> want!?" Huffing, you kicked the side of the bed when the stretchy mattress cover you were trying to put on wouldn't stay in place and came off of the first corner of the mattress just after you'd wrestled it over the second.<br/>
With a silent curse, you stepped back from the bed and grabbed the phone from its precarious position wedged between your shoulder and ear. "On second thought, I don't care what you want. I have nothing to say to you." With that, you hung up and tossed the phone aside.<br/>
Just when you'd put your hands on your hips, contemplating how to best go about your endeavor of getting the corners of the sheets to stay on the mattress until you were done with all four corners, your phone rang again.<br/>
You let it ring, thinking he’d give up if you didn’t answer, but it kept going.<br/>
And going.<br/>
Until the unceasing sound of the ringtone threatened to drill a hole through your already throbbing head.<br/>
Temper flaring, you grabbed the device again. “What the fuck do you want from me?”<br/>
He said nothing for a few seconds, as if your snapped question had surprised him into silence. Then… <i>"I haven’t seen you in class today. Sick of the limelight already?”</i><br/>
Oh, how badly you wanted to hurl your phone into the nearest wall right then. “I’m hanging up.”<br/>
<i>“Fine, fine!”</i> A chuckle that sounded half forced and, if you didn’t know better, a little nervous. <i>“Jeez, talk about sensitive…and here I thought I would break the ice with some small talk first.”</i><br/>
“Forget about breaking the ice, you already smashed a whole glacier when you dumped me and made the world believe I’m a prude, opportunistic bitch.” That wall was looking more tempting by the second, but the thought of having to spend money on a new phone held you back.<br/>
<i>“About that…I'm sorry about what happened."</i><br/>
Although he managed to sound apologetic over the phone, his choice of words had you holding back a snort. ‘Sorry <i>about</i> what happened' not ‘sorry <i>for</i> what happened'. A single small word could sometimes change the entire meaning of a phrase, like here, and most times, people didn't notice the subtle difference in wording.<br/>
But you did. Your father had used the same verbal tactics when he'd first started denying you music. A clueless child of 12 years back then, you hadn't understood why you weren't allowed to have piano practice anymore, seemingly out of the blue. And then your dad would say something like 'I'm sorry it has to be this way', and you'd believe that it wasn't his fault or his idea in the first place to keep you from your favorite pastime, because how could it be when he said the word 'sorry'? Over time, you had learned to pay attention to the subtle changes of not just the behavioral kind, but verbal too.<br/>
You were so deep into your thoughts of the past that you almost missed what Shin said next.<br/>
<i>“…I feel like things went wrong when they shouldn't have, so I thought that, maybe…we could start over?”</i><br/>
For a second, you thought you’d heard wrong. “Ex<i>cuse</i> me?”<br/>
He cleared his throat awkwardly. <i>“I said, maybe we could start over? You know, since things suddenly took a terrible turn, for some reason-”</i><br/>
“Oh, I heard you the first time, despite that <i>nerve</i> of yours blocking the signal. I was trying to give you a chance to take back those ridiculous words, but you don’t seem to get the hint, blinded by your own <i>bullshit</i> as you are.”<br/>
He actually had the audacity to sound offended. <i>“Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so nasty about it…I’m trying to fix things here, and you’re mocking me like I’m not a victim in this as well.”</i><br/>
You laughed out loud at this. “You? A victim?” You made sure to let him hear your derisively amused snicker. “Last I checked, a public case of blue balls and being exposed as a scheming, lying <i>asshole</i> don’t make someone a victim.”<br/>
Your words must have hit a nerve, because you heard him exhale noisily, before something rattled on his side, as if he’d kicked something across the floor or swept something off a table in a spike of temper.<br/>
But he seemed to swallow down what he actually wanted to say and stick to his plan of kissing up to you, whatever the hell he was doing that for. As a result, his next words sounded like he was being choked while speaking. <i>“I didn’t call you to fight about who suffered more the past weeks. I called to apologize, and to make up with you.”</i><br/>
Choked by his own pride, maybe. Because you still couldn’t hear or sense any sincerity in all this, and he was clearly expecting you to believe he was sorry.<br/>
A few words of regret here, some bad acting there, and he thought things between the two of you would go back to normal? How gullible did he think you were?<br/>
To top it off, you had no idea why he was putting up this show of wanting to get back on good terms with you. Just what was he up to?<br/>
You would find that out first, you decided, before planning your next move.<br/>
“Let’s say I forgave you for the petty slander. What brought this on? You didn’t seem very remorseful the last time I saw you.” <i>Or heard of him putting his tongue down another girl’s throat and his hand down her panties…</i><br/>
You were really curious what stupid excuse he had prepared.<br/>
<i>“Well, I’ve had some time to think, and I came to realize that we had a lot of potential, and how we never got to see it unfold before things unexpectedly ended.”</i><br/>
The urge to laugh in his face returned, but before you could react in a way he could hear, he continued.<br/>
<i>“We were so good together…”</i><br/>
<i>Hah!</i> You almost lost the fight with yourself and erupted into laughter, wondering who the ‘we’ he was talking about were. Because you sure didn’t remember anything good about the time you’d gone out with him.<br/>
<i>“…and that’s why I would like a second chance. So that neither of us will look back years later, plagued by ‘what if’s about a past that could have been.”</i><br/>
It had been amusing to hear his fake apology and desperate sweet-talking at first, but now he was laying it on so thick, it had you cringing from second-hand embarrassment. It made you wonder if he would have shed a few crocodile tears, had this conversation taken place in person instead of over the phone.<br/>
Although you were getting tired of playing along with his nonsense, you held back the urge to cuss him out and end it with a heartfelt ‘fuck off and never show your damn face in front of me again’. After all, you still wanted to know why he was actually doing all this.<br/>
So you gentled your wrath and picked your next words carefully instead. “This…thing we had, it ended because you wanted, no, you repeatedly <i>demanded</i> something I wasn’t willing to give at that point in time. If you think a second chance at a relationship is gonna be any different, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”<br/>
<i>“About that…''</i> He cleared his throat as if uncomfortable about that particular topic being brought up.<br/>
Correction: <i>acting</i> like he was uncomfortable.<br/>
<i>“I realize that I’ve been a little pushy and anything but a gentleman when it came to that, but…I promise to be patient, if you’re not feeling ready yet.”</i><br/>
Oh, how noble of him. <i>Not.<br/>
What a fucking douchebag…</i><br/>
Before you could go off on him, interrogation plans be damned, a sound like static cut through the line. You caught what sounded like muffled swearing, before Shin’s voice echoed back, sounding choppy and far away. <i>“Hold on…the connection’s getting bad.”</i><br/>
As you hissed out a furious breath at the guy’s nerve, telling yourself you’d get your chance to vent your wrath on him later, you grabbed a rag and began to almost aggressively wipe down the surfaces in the room while waiting for the connection to settle.<br/>
You wanted to use your time efficiently and continue working, since you’d been standing around for a while now just staring daggers at the crinkled mattress cover that wouldn’t act like you wanted it to. But as conquering the stupid thing required more than one hand free, you figured you’d do something else for the time being.<br/>
So you wiped the desk, then the bookshelves, then the window sill, all the while contemplating what to say next so the idiot dickhead would reveal his intentions to you when he was back on the line.<br/>
But for all your pondering, you didn’t get to squeeze the truth out of him when he did return.<br/>
<i>“I have to go. What I said earlier…think it through, yes? I’ll call you back later so we can finish this talk.”</i><br/>
And just like that, he hung up.<br/>
Grumbling under your breath in irritation, since you’d neither found out his goal behind contacting you, nor got to end the call like you’d been planning to, you put aside both phone and rag and decided to let your anger out on the damn bed sheets instead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Author's Note - 1) I’ve allowed myself to build in a little Korean pun here.<br/>
Shin’s full name, </i>Shin Yeong<i>, is actually spoken and written 영신 - </i>Yeong Shin<i>, because surnames come before the first name in Korean. If you add a B to the first syllable, you get 병신 - </i>Byeong Shin<i>, which is what the MC refers to him by and saved him as in her phone after the incident where he publicly dumped and slandered her.<br/>
</i>Byeong Shin<i>, in this context of use, has the meaning of an insult and is oftentimes translated as ‘idiot’, ‘asshole’, ‘SOB’, etc. … I’m making use of my artistic liberties to have the MC call him ‘dickhead’ in English, because as he’s proven before, he only seems to think with his downstairs brain :D<br/>
I hope you’re having as much fun calling him that as I had coming up with this pun ~ </i></p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Hours passed and the only calls you received were unwelcome ones from a woman that had once meant the world to you.<br/>
After finishing work, you found yourself in the park by the river again, seated on a bench by the water with a plastic bag on your lap. You’d dropped by a convenience store on the way to grab a quick bite for a (very) late lunch, but you’d been so preoccupied mentally planning out how your next conversation with Shin would go that you hadn’t touched any of the food yet.<br/>
Every time your phone had rung after your interrupted call with him, you would check the caller ID to see if you could carry on with your strategy yet, but the bastard hadn’t bothered calling back so far. You wouldn’t go out of your way to call him first, because he might get his hopes up when all you had in store for him was cold rejection. Knowing what type of person he was now, he’d undoubtedly read more into it than there was if you did contact him instead of waiting for him to call back. The guy already had too much of an unhealthy inclination to mess with your life…<br/>
But worse than that, if you called and he cut you off again like he had at the end of the previous call, be it because he was busy or just plain being an asshole and purposefully tormenting you, you’d feel even more angry and miserable about everything than you already did.<br/>
So for now, you’d wait.<br/>
You hated it, this feeling of being shackled to another person’s whim, unable to act until they did. And you especially hated that it was <i>Shin's</i> number you were waiting for to pop up on your screen, when you’d never wanted to hear his stupid name again. The only reason you hadn’t blocked his number or deleted his contact info from your phone was that it could lead to confusion inside the group chats the two of you were in for class.<br/>
With how worked up he’d gotten you, you couldn’t help but mull over the call again and again. Had he said and done all that knowing he’d leave you in that kind of mental space? You wondered if that was the case and he was laughing and boasting somewhere about how he was manipulating you, waiting to see if you’d give in and call first to go with his wish for a second chance.<br/>
But why would you do that? Did he actually think you’d believe all the nonsense he was spouting earlier? That there was any way in hell you would forgive all the things he’d done and consider getting back with him? How highly did he think of himself and his poor acting skills? Or maybe it was your ability to see through his farce that he was underestimating.<br/>
But really, who in his right mind would fall for that? He must be delusional to think you’d write off everything he’d done as bad luck or an unexpected twist of fate just because he phrased it as that. Like he could change your perception or memories of the incident by telling you that what had transpired was actually different from what you remembered.<br/>
To believe that something like that would work on you, he had to think you a complete fool.<br/>
With a heavy sigh, you tore open the wrapper of the egg sandwich you’d bought, resolving to push that part of the day out of your mind, at least until you’d get the chance to rectify his misconceptions. When the call came, you’d settle things once and for all.<br/>
Munching your way through a triangle of fluffy white toast full of a hefty dose of mayonnaise-heavy, creamy egg salad, you stared at the ducks floating on the water with not a single care in the world.<br/>
You, too, wished you could just empty your mind and simply enjoy life. Without constantly having to maneuver your way around people that betrayed you, and hurt you, and tried to clip your wings to forcefully keep you on the ground, when all you wanted was to soar and let the wind carry you far away from them.<br/>
All you wanted was a chance at freedom, so you could let go of the anger and resentment constantly simmering inside your blood and find the path to your own happiness.<br/>
But for now you’d have to be satisfied with the window Jumin had opened for you with his generosity, letting you see that path from afar while you practiced spreading your wings until you were ready, and strong enough to take flight.<br/>
With that encouraging thought in mind, you packed up your things and decided to head to Jumin’s extra early for a change. And when your fingers finally danced over the keys, the mess churning inside you flowing out to flavor the air with the depth of your emotions, the weight pressing on your heart began to ease, little by little.<br/>
Playing with your eyes closed and your entire being focused on the music cascading from your soul like the wild storm you had dreamed about, you were unaware of the suit-clad man leaning in the doorframe behind you.<br/>
He didn’t interrupt, just stood there, silently watching and listening as you played, until the boisterous tune lost its rough edge and smoothed out into a mellow, melancholic elegy lamenting lost tempers, tired smiles and a cautious hope for better times.<br/>
It wasn’t until the final, soft notes faded into silence that he made his presence known.<br/>
The slow clapping had you swiveling around on the stool, abruptly torn from the trance-like state the piano had put you into.<br/>
"You deserve a stage." Before you could react to his sudden presence and praise, he was already walking towards you.<br/>
By the time he stopped beside the instrument, still clapping, you had gathered yourself enough to give him a half-hearted, goofy smile. “Gee, thanks. How long have you been listening for?”<br/>
“I was here first today, so…since you started.” At the small, lopsided smile that accompanied his reply, your own felt less forced.<br/>
“Sorry, I’m too early for once. I hope I didn’t disturb you in whatever you were doing?”<br/>
He waved your words off, glancing down when a certain white furball streaked around his ankles. “Don’t worry about that. It was a nice change of atmosphere from the usual dead quiet I do paperwork in.”<br/>
You realized he was trying to be funny in his usual subtle way, but you had no laughter in your heart today. “That’s…good, I guess.” Going silent, you watched him tug at the fabric of his pants before crouching to pet Elizabeth The 3rd.<br/>
The luminous smile transformed his entire face as he looked at his beloved pet with a warmth and affection you knew he never showed anyone else.<br/>
It made your heart give a tiny, wistful twist. You didn’t know why, but suddenly you envied the person he would someday look at with such unconditional love.<br/>
You were so absorbed in the feelings his expression elicited in you, that you winced when he looked up, hastily turning your head away.<br/>
“So how was movie night?”<br/>
Like a switch being flicked, your slowly lightening mood was plunged into cold, harsh darkness again.<br/>
You considered what to tell him, but found no words to express what was going on inside you. It turned out that, buried under the ruins of your shattered defenses, your bruised heart had no more capacity for faking kindness today. “I don’t want to talk about it.”<br/>
Only when you caught Jumin’s eyebrows shooting up in the corner of your vision did you realize how rude you’d sounded. Giving a soft sigh, you carefully avoided meeting his questioning gaze as you vacated the piano stool for him. “I’m sorry, I just…really don’t want to talk about it.”<br/>
“I see.” With one last lingering glance at you, he rose to his feet and casually brushed a couple of stray cat hairs off his clothes. “I suppose we should start with the lesson, then?”<br/>
At your wordless nod, he seated himself at the piano and shook out his sleeves, before lowering his hands to the keys elegantly.<br/>
Guilt wracked you when he began to play with no further comment. Since you were unable to tell what he was thinking, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d offended him. Was he so curt because he was mad? Or was that just his usual self and you were reading more into it because you felt guilty about snapping at him like that?<br/>
Either way, you wouldn’t know unless he told you or his behavior gave away his thoughts like usual.<br/>
So you forced yourself to focus on the music instead, and found him playing a soft, sweet melody that spoke of intimate whispers, stolen glances and hushed conversations, his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth curved into the faintest smile.<br/>
The sight had you holding your breath, chest aching from the depth of emotion weaved into the music. When had he learned to play like that? Only yesterday, you’d had to bribe him with sweets and his pet’s cuteness to get anything decent out of him, the first sign of progress in weeks. And now he was at it by himself, playing like he didn’t need any more lessons?<br/>
The thought made you a little sad. Would he care to spend time with you after there was no more need to teach him?<br/>
As you watched on in mute awe, the piece came to an end and his eyes opened as the last note faded, alight with a triumphant kind of smugness. “So how was I, Master?”<br/>
Both --the look and the words-- caught you off guard. Had he been practicing just to impress you?<br/>
Rubbing the side of your neck, earlier discomfort forgotten, you slowly blinked at him. “That…was good. Well done.”<br/>
As if he was a puppy wagging its tail at being praised, he broke into a delighted smile.<br/>
And then looked at you expectantly.<br/>
Your confused daze at the way his smile turned his face radiant morphed into a confused frown. “What?”<br/>
Without losing the smile, he cocked his head, giving you a meaningful look. “Don’t I…get a reward?”<br/>
That almost cracked you up. “Oh. Right.” At this unfamiliar, silly expression he wore, amusement cut through the shadows swathing your mood like a brilliant beam of light. “I didn’t get to buy or make any sweets today…”<br/>
His face fell at your words, and the pitiful pout he probably didn’t know he was making surprised you into a soft giggle.<br/>
“…BUT I still have a little something for you.” Still speaking, you went to retrieve your purse that lay abandoned by the front door. “As for the actual reward, just tell me what dessert you want, and I’ll bring it next time.” You rummaged through your purse until you found the other items you’d bought at the convenience store earlier, then walked back to where he sat, waiting but unable to hide his curiosity. “There you go.”<br/>
He turned the short plastic bottle over in his hands, clearly not knowing what to do with himself or the yogurt drink. “What’s this?”<br/>
Again, his cluelessly innocent behavior punched right through your gloom, and you couldn’t hold back your smile. “Yogurt drink. I knew you’ve probably never had one. I grew up with those in my lunch boxes for school.” Handing him one of the two tiny straws you’d brought along, you showed him how to poke it through the foil covering the top of the bottle.<br/>
When he raised it to his lips, but stopped with a skeptical look on his face to glance at you as if seeking reassurance, you nodded with an encouraging smile, taking a big sip from your own.<br/>
It was comical, watching this big man hold the tiny drink that was smaller than his palm, and carefully purse his lips around an even tinier straw.<br/>
His eyebrows rose in astonishment when the flavor reached him, his widening eyes catching yours from over his drink.<br/>
You snickered quietly, leaning your elbow on top of the piano and resting your jaw on your palm as you watched him drink.<br/>
And drink.<br/>
Until only air whistled through the straw noisily and his forehead crinkled in protest.<br/>
“I know, right. It’s always over too soon. I wish they came in bigger bottles than just these tiny one.” You finished your own Yogurt in slow, deliberate sips, relishing the tangy creaminess of the drink that brought so many happy childhood memories back.<br/>
As Jumin examined the now empty bottle with child-like fascination, he licked his lips as if making sure not to miss a single drop of flavor. “If that was the case…I dare say I would become a regular customer.”<br/>
Was that his way of saying he liked it? You’d been afraid he might not be a fan, since he was used to a more expensive taste and this was just simple Yogurt. But you were glad that he didn’t seem to hate it.<br/>
“It’s nothing special, but at the same time it is.” You tried to explain the feeling it evoked in you, but feared your explanation might confuse him more than help him understand. “If that makes sense.” Scratching your head with a sheepish smile of apology, you expected him to laugh at your sorry phrasing.<br/>
But to your surprise, he nodded, turning over the empty plastic bottle in his hands. “I agree. The flavor is nice, but not extraordinary. The memories that go with it are what makes it special.” When he glanced up, purposefully catching and holding your gaze, there was an unexpected warmth in his gray eyes that you could almost feel on your skin.<br/>
Heat singed your cheeks, making you duck your head as you broke the strangely intimate eye contact. Suddenly nervous, you stared down at your hands while fiddling with the empty bottle you still held on to.<br/>
<i>What is that supposed to mean?</i><br/>
His reaction earlier told you that he’d never had that Yogurt drink before, so what memories was he talking about? And what did that look he’d fixed you with mean? And why had it made you go flaming crimson with shy embarrassment?<br/>
You had no idea how to handle yourself --or him-- at that moment, so when he rose and grabbed the bottle from your grip, you stayed stiffly frozen in your place, hiding from him by keeping your eyes firmly fixed on your hands until he’d turned to toss the empty drink containers in the kitchen trash can.<br/>
Maybe you were just reading too much into it. <i>Unless…</i><br/>
Unless he meant to say that the memories he made <i>with you</i> were what turned the Yogurt drink precious for him.<br/>
<i>Don’t be stupid.</i> Your inner voice embodied your doubts perfectly. <i>You’ve barely known him for a few weeks. That’s not even enough to call each other real friends over. </i><br/>
Great, now you were talking to yourself. You rolled your eyes in disgust.<br/>
<i>And besides, this guy probably has hundreds of pretty, rich girls to choose from. Why would he care for a poor mouse like you?<br/>
Wow, rude.</i> Even speaking to yourself, that was pretty harsh.<br/>
Upon feeling a wave of hysterical laughter swell inside you, the realization that you were starting to lose it hit you. With the emotional stress and anxiety piling up lately, your need for a vacation was getting more and more dire…<br/>
By the time he returned from the kitchen, the rising hysteria and your embarrassment from before were under control.<br/>
Stealing tiny glances at him as he sat back down by the piano, you bit your bottom lip, fingers drumming a nervous staccato on the piano’s surface. “Hey…can I ask you something?”<br/>
Jumin’s hands glided up and down the keyboard in scales, making quiet but bright notes swirl in the air. Although he was putting in mere casual effort, more out of muscle memory than conscious movements, he still didn’t look up when he answered, absorbed in his playing. “Hm-hm.” On the heel of his reply, the scales transformed into the beginning tones of what you recognized as one of Franz Liszt’s “Liebesträume”, No. 3.<br/>
<i>Dreams of Love.</i><br/>
The drumbeat of your fingers faltered, your intended question forgotten. As you fought not to let your thoughts show on your face in a self-conscious rush of heat, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d deliberately chosen that particular piece or if he’d just started playing the first thing that came to mind.<br/>
What if he was thinking of the same person as when he’d earlier given that perfect performance you had yet to reward? Not that it was any of your business…<br/>
When the languid, dreamy intro of the piece was over, your eyes went wide remembering what came next.<br/>
An incredibly challenging sequence of notes that wasn’t just fast cadence-wise, but required outstanding technical skill and exceptional dexterity, in both hands at the same time.<br/>
You knew that Jumin had a high degree of the former, but you’d never seen him play something with a tempo similar to this piece’s and therefore had no idea if he could pull it off. And that notwithstanding the difficulty he faced in imbuing emotion, something he’d only just started improving in.<br/>
So you waited, breath held, for the next passage to start, only to hear the music unfurl into a different melody altogether.<br/>
You knew how to play the rhythmic back and forth of soft notes he picked up instead, the romantic piece reminiscent of two people exchanging words of love under a blanket of soft rainfall one of your favorites to perform and listen to. <i>(see Author's Note 2)</i><br/>
You watched on, enchanted by the spark of emotion stirring in Jumin’s eyes as the notes flowed from his fingers, no, from his heart, and filled the entire room with a dulcet warmth and just a hint of mystery. The secret of whispered sweet nothings and smoldering glances an observer would miss in the rush of raindrops obscuring the couple from the world.<br/>
His rendition struck the depths of your being, putting you in the same rapturous mood that the rare instances you’d been to a live piano concert did. You wanted to close your eyes to bask in the music, but if you did, you’d miss the effervescent play of emotion twirling in his gray eyes. So you leaned onto the piano, feeling the vibrations of the instrument in your bones, and enjoyed the performance and the view with half-lowered eyelids, a tiny smile and a dreamy look on your face.<br/>
You were so into it that it took your brain a moment to register the music ending. When it did, you surfaced from your state of bliss to find Jumin staring at you in the signature Vic-pose of a cocked head and curious eyes. “Well?”<br/>
“Huh?” Shaking off the mental haze as if awakening from a spell his music had put you under, you tried to remember what he was looking at you so expectantly for. Applause? Another reward? More praise? What did he want now!?<br/>
“Uhm…you can choose two desserts for next time…?” There. Happy? He had to be. Your student was exploiting you for sweets, making faster progress that you’d expected him to. You’d have to keep a list now to keep track of what you still owed him.<br/>
Jumin’s quiet chuckle at your words put a confused frown on your face. “I won’t refuse that generous offer, but I was talking about your question. You meant to ask me something?”<br/>
Right. You’d been so enthralled by his playing, it had completely slipped your mind.<br/>
Unable to stop the flush of crimson heat streaking your cheeks and singing your ears, you turned your face away in hopes of hiding your embarrassment. Once again, you’d made a fool out of yourself in front of him. He had totally seen the weird expression you’d made while watching him play, and now this.<br/>
Why had you bothered to come here again today?<br/>
<i>Would you have rather missed him playing your favorite </i>Passacaglia<i>, though?</i><br/>
Your inner voice was right. You were glad to have come today. His presence and music had succeeded in making you forget about yesterday’s ordeal and the enraging phone call, even if just as a temporary respite. And he’d granted you a short period of happiness, just by playing one of your favorite pieces for you, though unknowingly.<br/>
“Y/N?”<br/>
You whipped around again, giving a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I completely forgot that I had a question for you, seeing you play like that. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”<br/>
Giving a small nod, Jumin returned your smile. “A little bit. I think I’ve figured out how to merge my thoughts with my movements.”<br/>
“That’s good, very good. Once you can do that for all emotions, you’ll be an amazing pianist. You’ll surpass me in no time!” Despite the exaggerated cheer in your words, you were actually proud of him for getting the hang of it so fast. And still, you had to know…<br/>
“So, uhm…what were you thinking of when you were playing earlier and just now?” Holding your breath and feeling instant regret at having asked after all, you searched his face for signs of unease, just in case you’d overstepped your boundaries with such a question. “Oh, uhm…you don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal.”<br/>
Across from you, Jumin’s eyes lit up, completely against your expectations.<br/>
Was it not a <i>past</i> lover after all?<br/>
Closing the keyboard cover of the piano, he turned on the stool to fully face you. “It’s a little personal, but a certain someone once told me that’s acceptable among friends.” His teasing smirk had you rolling your eyes at how he once again used your own words against you. He was getting cheekier by the day…<br/>
“Naturally, I was thinking about the love of my life.”</p>
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  <i>Author's Note - 2) This is the piece I had in mind for what Jumin plays to “evade” the hard parts of the original melody he started with: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAIZxaToV2A </i>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>Hey everyone, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few, sorry for that &gt;.&lt; it did feel right to end it at this point though, so I hope y'all don't feel too upset about it the shortness. Also, I couldn't be bothered with editing today, so please excuse any mistakes or typos.<br/>I know I've just come off a three week upload break, but I honestly don't know yet if I will be able to manage posting next week, so just be warned if there's no new chapter after all :( I've hit a bit of writer's block and I feel like taking the pressure of having to upload weekly off myself for a bit might help with that. I don't want to end up messing up the story or writing in a lower quality than usual, so please bear with me.<br/>I'm also thinking of changing upload days to Sunday instead of Wednesday. I guess I'll let you guys know either next Sunday or the week after.<br/>Thank you so much to everyone who's been commenting and sharing my fic with friends. I means a lot to me to get feedback on my writing, and since I have no way to advertise my stuff yet, sharing it with fellow MysMes fans is super helpful to me!!</i>
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  <i>P.S: I LOL'ed at all the comments saying how we all know who the love of Jumin's life really is XD </i>
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    <p>A nameless feeling of dread and something else stirred inside you at Jumin’s words, causing your gut twist to almost painfully.<br/>
Somewhere in this undefinable cocktail of emotion holding you in a stupor, confusion made the space between your brows crease when he spoke on.<br/>
“I believe you know her.”<br/>
So it seemed he was in a relationship after all. And apparently you knew her?? You had no idea who it could be. You didn’t even know anyone else who was acquainted with him, let alone <i>like that</i>. Honestly, you didn’t even know what to do with that information. The thought of the awkward yet innocent Jumin who barely even knew how friendships worked, being together <i>romantically</i> with someone…<br/>
But…why was it bothering you so much, when you called yourself his friend? Shouldn’t you be happy for him instead?<br/>
Just then, disrupting the strange chaos in your mind, Elizabeth The 3rd sashayed across the hardwood floor between you and Jumin, passing under the stool he sat on and rubbing against his pant-clad legs, tail gracefully raised and purr-engine fully on.<br/>
Smile widening, Jumin leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her like one would a baby. “Perfect timing. It’s like she knows when I’m talking about her even if I don’t say her name.”<br/>
You blinked.<br/>
Hold up.<br/>
<i>What!?</i><br/>
His smile turned into a full-blown grin at your slack-jawed expression of shock. Glancing down, he tenderly tapped the cat’s pink nose with his fingertip. “Y/N, meet my perfect beauty, the love of my life.”<br/>
The first thing your stunned mind came up with was that he had to be joking. But when he didn’t add anything else, like the <i>‘Got you there didn’t I? You thought the love of my life was a cat? Hah!’</i> you expected, only keeping up the eye contact without his expression changing, it dawned on you that he had to be serious.<br/>
All at once, your state of stupefied shock dissolved. Since you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, you did both, laughing until tears streaked down your cheeks and your sides hurt from stitches. Even then, you kept laughing until all your hysterical bewilderment had dissipated and you found yourself rolling on the ground like people did in cartoons.<br/>
When you came to your senses, wiping at your wet face with your sleeve, you felt horrible for losing it like that in front of him. Sensing a pair of judging eyes on you, you peeked at Jumin expecting him to be offended at your outbreak, but found him observing with a mild smile on his face instead. Elizabeth The 3rd, still cradled in his arms like a baby, was the one with the judgy stare, flicking her tail with attitude and looking her nose down on you like she found you detestable.<br/>
Suddenly realizing the shape you were in, you rolled to your feet and hung your head in front of man and cat. “I’m so sorry, that was incredibly uncalled for. I just realized my own stupidity, when I myself have called my Victor ‘the furry love of my life’ so many times before…but hearing you say it surprised me so much, I lost control of myself. I really wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from you and that’s my only excuse. I didn’t mean it to seem like I’m making fun of you.”<br/>
“Don’t worry, I’m used to people thinking I’m crazy for loving my pet so much.” Jumin gave a soft shake of his head, his leisurely smile betraying the cynical awareness in his words.<br/>
A cynicism you recognized.<br/>
You hated that you might have unknowingly hurt him. “I-I don’t think that, I swear! I’m as crazy about my own cat!”<br/>
In more ways than one, Victor had been your savior. He had found you in times you’d felt terribly out of place at home, freshly abandoned by your mother and not getting along with the only parent who remained. You had needed someone on your side, giving you unconditional love and support. So he’d shown up to soothe your loneliness and make you feel less useless, because the filthy, emaciated, injured stray kitty he’d been back then, he had needed you too.<br/>
So yes, you adored your little Vic with all of his mischief, and the hairballs puked onto your bed in the middle of the night, and the mess he made of your room when you weren’t paying attention to him every single minute of your day.<br/>
As someone who was in that place yourself, you would never judge anyone for “loving their pet too much” or being more attached to an animal than a person. Because sometimes, pets understand you and help you so much more than people. There are things in the world, things inside your heart, that you can only share with a beloved pet and not even with the humans you were closest with. Human beings always form subconscious opinions and judgments on what others told them, possibly changing the way they looked at you even if just in their minds. They can’t help it.<br/>
But pets are loyal and there for you, no matter what. Even without any words, they make their love felt and their support known. They know when something is wrong, and give comfort without being asked to. Sometimes, a single cat by your side can keep the darkness at bay more than ten people could. You had experienced that, and you suspected that Jumin had, too.<br/>
“I know you it wasn’t your intention to mock me.” Jumin’s words only made you feel a little less worse about yourself. “I may have only known you for a few weeks, but I’m quite certain  of it by now. You’re not that kind of person.”<br/>
All at once, your shoulders dropped, the anxious tension keeping your muscles bunched easing. “What I’m trying to say is…I understand.” You tugged at a loose seam on your sleeve, more to give yourself a little time to decide how much you wanted to say than out of nervousness.<br/>
Glancing up, you found him watching you with the slightest tilt to his head, gray eyes unusually solemn. Despite your prolonged silence, he didn’t speak, so you drew in a deep breath and hesitantly continued. “I know what it’s like to…rely on “just” a pet rather than another person, be it by choice or circumstance. Other people don’t understand unless they experience it for themselves…and it surprised me to find out that you seem to have. So, I understand.”<br/>
Although you were showing vulnerability in front of Jumin, you felt neither embarrassed nor nervous. The unexpected difficulty you faced in putting your thoughts into words made it a little awkward, but you were determined to overcome that. Although you didn’t know what demons haunted him, or what kind of painful moments had caused the unusually strong attachment to his cat, you still wanted to help. You desperately wanted him to know that it was alright, and not to let other people’s ignorant words make him feel bitter for choosing his own coping methods.<br/>
Your voice trembled from the fierceness of that sentiment when you spoke again. “Don’t let anyone’s inconsiderate comments make you feel like you’re strange, or crazy. If this is how you’re surviving, and it’s not doing harm to anyone, then it’s okay to keep holding on like that until you learn to cope in a healthier way, or find someone to lean on. <i>It’s okay.</i>”<br/>
Something flashed in Jumin’s eyes, too fast for you to catch, but your instincts told you that your words had hit home. Yet all he did was blink, his gaze dropping to the white-haired feline in his arms. He regarded her for a long moment, tenderness in his touch as he rubbed her pointed ear.<br/>
Your heart hurt for the man who, even now, was hiding all the emotions inside him behind a blank face carefully controlled, and silence.<br/>
Then again, was that any different from the mask you’d lived with?<br/>
When Jumin cleared his throat softly, you found his eyes resting on you, as if he’d waited for you to meet them. When you did, biting your lip when your nervosity returned, one corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.<br/>
You expected him to crack a silly joke to break up the serious atmosphere, or worse, tell you that this level of personal was too much, even for friends. You thought he would distance himself, having decided that you’d overstepped your bounds speaking of something like that when he’d never asked you for advice. Prompted by his continued silence, your anxious mind bombarded you with a million and one ways this conversation could end, and none of them good, until you were ready to just get up and leave, to deal with this emotional mess another day. You could never tell what he was thinking when he closed himself off like that, after all.<br/>
“Thank you.”<br/>
With two simple words, he quelled the chaos of thoughts clamoring in your head.<br/>
“Oh…you’re welcome, I guess?” Peeking at him through your lashes, you couldn’t help but return the tiniest of smiles he was giving you.<br/>
But you felt the sincerity behind both it and his words. It put your agitated mind at ease.<br/>
“So…your cat inspires you to play a piece that reminds most other people of a lover?” You couldn’t help but poke fun at him a little.<br/>
To your surprise, his expression softened. “I have yet to find someone human who incites as much in me as she does.” He stroked a single finger up the strip of white fur above the cat’s nose, repeating the motion when Elizabeth The 3rd closed her eyes in feline bliss. “Seeing all the people who only approached my father and me for our money, I was content knowing she would never treat me according to my social status, and that was enough for me. I can’t even remember how my life was before her, before a childhood friend brought her into my life almost three years ago.”<br/>
Keeping quiet, you let him speak, bewitched by the fond smile his lips curved into the more he said. He hadn’t spoken about himself much since you first met him, so you sure weren’t going to interrupt him in the rare times that he did.<br/>
“We’ve been together ever since. She’s been the single best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was always convinced that she would be the only woman in my life I’d allow close.”<br/>
Your grin widened in quiet amusement at the way he spoke of his cat like she was his literal girlfriend. Especially when he called her a ‘woman’. It was kind of adorable.<br/>
But Jumin didn’t pay any attention to your mirth, or maybe he just didn’t want to interrupt himself to react to it. “At least I used to think that. Since getting to know you, I’ve come to realize that there are people out there who will stick around for who I am rather than for what I own.” He lifted his head, soft smile lighting up the depths of his eyes when he caught your gaze. “Maybe it’s not so bad to be friends with my maid after all, strict teacher that she turned out to be…”<br/>
You faked a gasp of indignation, putting a hand over your heart to be extra dramatic. “Just not so bad?! You wound me…”<br/>
Jumin’s reaction to your bad acting was a haughty glance, eyes sparkling with his own amusement. “I’ll give my full testimonial once we know your lessons pay off.”<br/>
You huffed out a breath at his cheekiness. “Maybe I shouldn't have introduced a reward system after all. Free dessert on top of the time you’re stealing from my busy days, and not even a single word of praise for my hard work? You’re heartless.”<br/>
You didn’t think much of it when he gently lowered the cat to the floor and rose to his feet. Not even when he stepped towards you, did you sense any danger.<br/>
Until he towered in front of you, his chest a mere few inches away, and you felt the weight and the warmth of his hand on your hair. “You’re doing very well, oh hard-working Piano Master. Your student couldn’t be happier to have you teaching him.”<br/>
With how close he was, and the way he was looking down at you from above, it took you a few seconds to realize he was petting your head, like he had done with Elizabeth The 3rd earlier.<br/>
“What are-…<i>I’m not a damn cat!</i>” Stumbling out from under his hand, you knew you’d gone bright red before feeling the heat rise to your face. As you reached up to touch your hair, telling yourself it was only to check if he’d messed it up or not, you scowled at him from a safe distance away.<br/>
You’d been ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, but seeing a hint of wickedness in his smile confirmed your suspicion that he’d done it on purpose.<br/>
The fiend was barely holding back a grin at your reaction. “You were just complaining about a lack of praise, but when I go out of my way to praise you, this is the thanks I get?”<br/>
Oh, he was clearly having fun messing with you, and you had no idea how to handle him when he was like that.<br/>
You had already noticed earlier, but he seemed more energetic and playful than usual today. It was a little strange, considering it had taken him a while to even give you a genuine smile, and now he was out here cracking jokes and acting silly in front of you.<br/>
You wondered if he was feeling okay…<br/>
Keeping up your farce of a scowl, you picked up your purse on the way back to sit on the piano stool, ignoring that he stood right beside it. “If you’re going to waste my precious time and <i>not</i> play during your own lessons, then I am.”<br/>
Just as you dug your music book out of the depths of your purse, Jumin did another unexpected thing that was so unlike the sides of him he’d shown you so far. Stepping even closer to you, he lowered himself onto the piano stool you were already seated on, forcing you to scoot aside to make room so neither of you would fall off.<br/>
Unable to ignore him any longer with the way his thigh pressed into yours and half of your butt hung suspended in the air, you gave an exasperated sigh. “What in God’s name are you doing?”<br/>
“Playing. Why take turns if we can just play at the same time?” With no further words, he started on a classical Mozart piece that was often played as a duet. When he was done with the intro and you still hadn’t made a move, he turned his head to give you a pointed look full of expectation.<br/>
Rolling your eyes at him, you put your hands on the keys with a defeated sigh and jumped in where he was. Your notes harmonized together, filling the room with a melody in two voices that held the different nuances of emotion each pianist put into the mix.<br/>
It was strangely exhilarating to play the same piece with someone after all these years that just finding a piano for yourself had been a struggle. Your eyelids lowered as melanchy arose, reminding you of the last time you’d done that, with your father, back before your family had fallen apart and your entire world been turned on its head…<br/>
The entire length of the piece seamlessly flowed from under four hands moving together, bringing you back the composure that Jumin’s strange behavior kept disrupting. When the last tones reverberated in the empty room, you opened your eyes to Jumin looking at you from the side.<br/>
“Can I…ask you a question?” Yet again, he seemed in a more serious mood than before, the unusual playfulness gone from his face and voice.<br/>
Without a conscious decision on your part, you crossed your arms over your chest, and although you felt bad after he’d opened up to you earlier, wariness had you narrowing your eyes at his words. “That depends. What about?”<br/>
Would he dig into the topic of movie night after all?<br/>
As if sensing your thoughts, he gave a small shake of his head. “Don’t worry, I can tell when something is a sore subject. I’m not asking about that. If my question does end up relating to it somehow, I understand if you prefer not to answer.” The air of purposeful composure he was now exuding, his features schooled back into his familiar poker-face with only hints of emotion shining through, it made you wonder if his blithe and overly animated behavior before had been an act to cheer you up.<br/>
Warmth blossomed in your chest, a delicate feeling of appreciation for this man who always surprised you with how considerate he was, and how he always seemed to know the right thing to say and do to make you feel better, despite the short time the two of you had been friends for.<br/>
Except for the times when you felt embarrassed around him, but you didn’t think he was even aware he had that effect on you.<br/>
Next to you, Jumin cocked his head the slightest bit in silent question.<br/>
He probably had no idea how cute you found his rendition of Vic’s signature pose either, or he’d most likely stop doing it…<br/>
Feeling a smile rising, you gave in. “What do you want to know?”<br/>
He didn’t hesitate. “Remember the day we first met? When I arrived home after work to find a <i>lowly maid</i> playing her heart out on my <i>expensive</i> personal piano.”<br/>
Seeing his eyes twinkle with withheld laughter, you nonetheless gave his shoulder a halfhearted nudge in retaliation for the lame joke. “Get to the point, jokester.”<br/>
As if he’d failed to contain it, a smile tugged at his lips and lightened his voice on his next words. “I’m rather curious…what was on your mind when you were playing that day? You seemed very absorbed, and…incensed?”<br/>
Although Jumin couldn’t have known his question would upset you, anger oozed back into your veins at being reminded of that day. The fact that Shin had just called to try and take advantage of you again a few hours ago made your renewed fury feel like it had never left since back then.<br/>
“It’s a long story, and I can’t promise that I won’t curse while telling it.”<br/>
Although you didn’t dislike sitting so close to him -- you didn’t dislike it <i>at all</i>, and that confounded you --, you rose to your feet, filled by the need to move lest your negative emotions consumed the good mood Jumin had managed to put you in. So you paced a little along the piano, like you usually did, until you had collected yourself enough to stop and cover the keys up, perching with your hips against the instrument just where the stool Jumin remained seated on ended.<br/>
Curious now, his eyebrows having risen upon taking in your words and your restless movements, he turned his body so he sat sideways on the stool with one leg over the other, and almost casually rested his elbow on the keyboard cover. “I don’t mind if it’s long, or if you curse, as long as you don’t mind sharing it with me. I meant what I said earlier. Even if it’s unrelated, you don’t have to tell me if it upsets you.”<br/>
“It’s fine. I think I can let go of some of my anger if I talk about it with someone who’s not involved.”<br/>
His response was a slow nod. “Then, I’d be happy to listen.”<br/>
Despite the words of reassurance, you started restlessly bouncing your leg up and down as soon as you settled down, the subconscious habit giving away how much the topic stressed you out. “I think part of it was the release of touching a piano for the first time in months -- your expensive instrument has been slowly seducing me for months, after all. But what triggered the meltdown that day was something else…”<br/>
You told him of your short-lived “relationship” with Shin Young, the guy’s obvious aim of getting physical from the start, and his final reaction of the public tantrum he’d thrown when you had rejected his pressuring advances once too many.<br/>
Although you had intended to tell him of that time only, in accord with his question, you found yourself spilling everything that happened afterwards as well: the lingering effects following Shin slandering you on campus, the loss of your friends, your reconciliation with Nami on the day the exam results were released…the only thing you didn’t mention, because just thinking of it swept a fresh wave of rage through your mind, was Shin’s most recent phone call from just a few hours ago.<br/>
Jumin kept quiet the entire time, even when you resorted to some unsavory words to put into words Shin’s pathetically wretched behavior and the visceral response that just hearing his name evoked in you nowaday.<br/>
When you were done, you felt lighter, less burdened. Despite the memories that resurfaced as you spoke, you were glad you had decided to share the story with Jumin.<br/>
“Well? What do you think?” As you waited for him to say something, you periodically glanced over to try and read his reaction, While you’d talked, he hadn’t shown much reaction aside from looking thoughtful, the occasional frown creasing his forehead.<br/>
Now he leaned back on the stool and folded his hands together in his lap. “I like your friend. She sounds like a good person.”<br/>
You smiled when you thought of Nami and her flowers. “She is. So far, no one but her has spoken up, so I can’t tell yet if the others even intend to apologize or if it’s just going to be me and Nami from now on…I wouldn’t mind, actually. The less shady people I associate with, the less of a chance there is for a betrayal like that to repeat.”<br/>
Jumin nodded. “As for Shin Young…you’re better off without him in your life.”<br/>
You shuddered with revulsion at hearing his name out of Jumin’s mouth. “I agree. I don’t know what I’ll do if he dares show his face in front of me again.” Now you just had to tell him that. As soon as he called you back, you’d make sure he knew to stay the fuck away from you from now on.<br/>
A snake like him didn’t deserve any second chances.<br/>
Jumin cleared his throat. “As infuriating as that was, it sounds like the perfect opportunity for a clean cut.”<br/>
You threw him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”<br/>
“Think of it this way…” He stretched out his legs, then crossed the opposite one on top of the other. His eyes sparked with mischief, and even before he opened his mouth, you knew his next words would bother you. “If you apply for the scholarship and get into the music college of your choice, you won’t run into him ever again.”<br/>
Not having anticipated that he’d use this conversation to mention the damn scholarship yet again, you groaned out your displeasure. “I should have known you’d bring this up again…”<br/>
To your surprise, he sighed as if fed up with you. “Why are you so adamant on fighting it? Right now, switching schools would solve more problems for you than it would create.” Going silent as if to let his words sink in, he searched your face for a long moment. “What are you so afraid of?”<br/>
You looked down at the monochrome pattern of the living room carpet, the one you’d had dry cleaned once after dirtying it, more to escape those perceptive eyes than because you needed time to think about your answer.<br/>
It unnerved you, the way he seemed to have learned to read you so well in just a few weeks. He’d appear so awkward and unversed in casual interactions at first that you had thought he would need a lot longer to be comfortable around a virtual stranger. But the comment about your apparent lack of happy memories yesterday, the intensity he always seemed to watch and listen to you play with, and how he was able to read between the lines now even if you hadn’t outright said that something was bothering you…it showed disturbing insight on his part, and you didn’t know if you were comfortable with that.<br/>
“I’m just…not ready yet.” Biting your lip in an anxious reaction to your own distress, you tore the loose thread off your sleeve with more force than necessary. “I’m not prepared to deal with the loss of my dream, <i>if</i> it ends up failing.”<br/>
From the periphery of your vision, you saw that he hadn’t averted his eyes. Despite not looking at him, you felt his gaze on you, the purposeful intensity radiating from it making your skin tingle with awareness. A feeling of foreboding gripped you even before his mouth opened again.<br/>
His next words, you suddenly realized, would hurt.<br/>
“I see…so after all the pains and the effort you underwent to fight his stifling hold on you, the doubts your father has been sowing for years have finally taken root after all.”</p>
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